Rehab is Gay
by GlibCharm
Summary: I assure that there will be: Compelling characters, Completely Fucked-up Humor, Steamy Romance, Witt, Intense surprises, Absolute Evil, and some seriously gut wrenching cliff hangers.
1. Chapter 1 Fuck you, Kyle!

Had it really come to this? After all these years had the foundation of their friendship really crumbled so far that this was the only thing left that Kyle could do for Stan. He looked down at the phone in his hand and let out a heavy sigh.

"It's the right thing to do dude, it's all you can do." Kenny said as he looked between the phone and Kyle's face, speaking as he loosened the strings from his chin and pushed his hood back from his face, running a free hand through a mass of disheveled blond hair.

"I know it seems that way but…I don't know if I can do it, Kenny." Kyle closed his eyes and set the phone down on his desk. He squeezed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated growl. "This is bull-shit, it's just fucking bull-shit, Kenny, why do I have to be the one to do this? Stan is really going to hate me forever if I go through with it!" He furrowed his brows together and wrinkled his nose, the emotions he was feeling were bubbling up inside so strongly he felt them as a physical pain. His heart hurt…but then again his heart had been hurting for awhile.

"He needs help, more help than we can give him, and you know why it's got to be you, you're his best friend." Kenny said, scooting his rolling chair closer to Kyles.

"Exactly! So I have the most to loose!" Kyle pointed out, giving Kenny a sideways look, eyes narrowing, "You should do it…" He pressed pushing the phone towards him across the desk.

Kenny chuckled darkly, "Kyle…that would require me to really….truly…deeply….give a fuck…which I don't. I'm really not all that worried, but you are…everyone else is…But hey," he placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder and squeezed gently, "you don't have to do this right now, just uh…just take a few deep breaths, let's go do something else and come back to it." Kenny patted the back of his friends orange coat and gave him a neutral smile. Kyle, whose whole form was ridged with stress seemed to unhinge and relax a bit.

"yeah..okay…later then." He picked the phone back up and set it down on the receiver before pushing his chair out from the desk and standing up in sync with Kenny. The two of them headed to the door of his room, down the steps, and out of Kyles house with a flippant goodbye to Kyle's mother who was sitting in the living room.

It had been over three months since Stans eighteenth birthday, and it seemed that ever since the party games had ended and the sun set on that day, everything had changed, everything had begun to go down-hill, and not in the way they usually did in South Park. Something had changed, everything had changed. One of them had stepped into a darkness that no-one else seemed to be able to see or follow into. Kyle had tried to be around Stan, hell everyone had, but it was like trying to push water uphill. Stan was miserable to be around, always complaining and groaning and quite frankly it was obnoxious as hell. He made everyone exhausted. It didn't take long for everyone to just filter away from him; but not Kyle, no…they were super-best friends and that meant that Kyle had to stick it out through this phase…it was just a phase wasn't it?

So Kyle had stuck it out. He would go to Stans house and listen to him complain about things, listen to him bitch about how everything sucked, his life, his family, and as time went by he even started complaining about his friends. When Stan's parents ended up filing for divorce, that was the last straw, he didn't even want to see Kyle anymore, at least that's how it seemed. Everything Kyle tried to do just blew back up In his face.

"_Hey Stan, mind if I come in?"_

"_Sure…whatever…"Stan threw the door open wider and turned around, steadying himself on the doorframe before moving inside to collapse on the couch. Kyle watched him, a single auburn brow raised. He slowly reached up and pulled off his green hat and hung it with his coat by the door before following Stan over to the couch and taking a seat on the opposite side. He watched him friend from the corner of his eye as they silently watched the television. It wasn't five minutes before Stan reached over his side of the couch and pulled a bottle of Gin into his lap. He unscrewed the top and propped the bottle against his lips, taking a large gulp. He winced and then capped the bottle again, sliding it back behind the couch arm. _

_Kyle just stared at his friend. It wasn't the first time he had seen his friend drink, I mean it wasn't like he himself had never drank, but it was always in a different context than this. When they drank it was with a lot more people, or at least Kenny and Cartman and they were having a blast, playing some sort of stupid game or watching movies. Somehow this seemed very different. Kyle turned his head a little, trying to seem more focused on the television, but kept watching his friend. _

_By the end of the the show they were watching Stan had pulled the bottle out eight times and the quarter of liquid that had been in it was now reaching it's dregs. Kyle's mouth was pulled down into a deep frown, his emerald eyes glistening with deep pain for his super-best friend. _

"_Stan…" Kyle murmured. _

"_What.." Stan turned his head and looked at Kyle with a dull lifeless stare._

"_Stan…we're best friends right…talk to me, why don't you. What's going on with you, what's wrong? Is it the divorce? We can talk about it…" _

_Stan let out a frustrated grunt and smeared his fingers across his brow before speaking, his tone sharp, "Everything is just fucking shit, Kyle! Everything, it's just…it's just shit! I don't know what to tell you dude, I hate it, I hate this fucking town, I hate fucking everything." _

"_even me?" _

"_Fuck, Kyle, why do you have to do that, huh?" Stan looked away pointedly, his mouth tightening. _

"_do what?"_

"_That thing! That thing where you make it about you! I'm just telling you that my life is shit and you have to make it about you!" Stan's tone was growing more and more hostile. _

"_No Stan…this is definitely not about me, it's obviously about you." Kyle clenched his fists against the tops of his knees and looked down at the carpet, his jaw tight. Stan was really starting to piss him off. He waited a long while before speaking again. All the while Stan said nothing._

"_Stan… I just want to help you, I just wanna be there for you and I know this is a tough time."_

"_Oh you do, hu? Like when you ditched me last week to go to the movies with Kenny and Eric..right well..thanks sooo much." Stan snapped, "What about last month? You avoided me all last month...but not that my parents break up you're back to feel sorry for me? They are still going to live together, here…they just aren't together-what a crock of shit."_

_Kyle's knuckles were turning white. He stood up but didn't take his eyes off the floor. He turned and walked towards the door in silence. Stan called after him and he could hear his dark haired friend sliding off the couch._

"_Oh..oh nothing to say about that, hu? Well FUCK you, Kyle." He held up his middle finger, his face contorted in ager, "yeah, right here buddy. Fuck. You. You're a piece of shit." _

_Kyle turned around to see the gesture being shook in his direction. His green eyes narrowed and his frown was stready, "Why don't you just go finish that bottle you're working on…super best friend." And with that Kyle flung open the door. _

_As the door rocked open on it's hinges Stan stared after his "ex best friend with a sickly, desperate look fuming in his deep blues. He pressed three fingers to his temple and then stretched them out towards the door for a moment, exasperated. "I love you.." he said, weakly to Kyle's back. _

_Kyle paused, letting out a dry short sigh as he turned around, looking more hurt than anything else. He stared at Stan laying there on the couch, his hand reached out towards him. He watched as the hand was slowly retracted and then saw it rub the dark haired boys temple again, roughly before it returned to the outward position, but this time Stan's middle finger rocketed up. _

"_Fuck you, man, You're a piece of shit though!" Stan shouted and Kyle through up his arms, spinning himself around and without another word he hooked his fingers against the handle and slammed the door shut with finality. _

"_I..love you.." Stan said again, just as weakly to the back of the door, before lifted the mouth of the gin bottle to his lips and taking a swig._

It had been so long since Kyle had talked to Stan, sure they saw each other at school, but it was obvious that both of them were working hard to avoid each other. As Kyle walked next to Kenny, hands in his pockets, he couldn't help but think back on the last argument they had, and the several arguments before that. Now here he was, after already exhausting every effort to get his friend back into his right mind he was going to try again, and more desperately than ever.

"Do you really think sending him to a rehab group is going to do anything. Isn't a drinking problem sort of a symptom rather than an issue?" Kyle asked, not looking at Kenny as they walked. Kenny didn't speak right away. Instead first he shrugged and then he scratched the side of his head.

"Well, I would say we should do an intervention…but Kyle," the redhead looked up at Kenny when he said his name, "Kyle…Stan had pretty much pissed everyone else off to the point where no one would show up to any sort of intervention, and I wouldn't blame them."

"There's still the two of us." Kyle pointed out, but Kenny just frowned, "Yeah well, Stan never really listened to me even before he became this evil..fucking…brats doll. Kyle couldn't help but chuckle a bit. He looked up into the sky, it was starting to snow.

"So where are we going?" he asked, pulling his mittens out from his side pockets and pulling them on over his wiggling fingers.

"I dunno, I was thinking we could just stop at the Ergo's Diner and get some coffee, I could really face-fuck some bacon right about now" Kenny said, rubbing his stomach. Kyle nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and the two boys walked to the restraint which was only a few blocks away.

Standing outside the venue, knuckles knocking together and eyes darting nervously across the posted menu stood their mutual school friend, Butters, his blond hair was combed and he was wearing a pinstripe blue dress up top, kakis and dress shoes in lou of hi usual faded blue top and mismatched socks. As Kenny and Kyle approached he jumped and little but then smiled. He was a few inches shorter than both Kyle and Kenny, and when he looked up at them it was always in this meek dejected sort of way, big blue eyes always wilting nervously.

"Oh shit…" Kenny stopped in his tracks and smacked his forehead. Kyle looked at him questioningly.

"Oh-uh-nothing, I just forgot there was something I was supposed to do…"

"O-oh hi fellers." Butters eyes widened a little bit as he let his gaze linger on each of the other boys in turn.

"Hey butters." Kyle responded

"uh…hey, Butters." Kenny said, rubbing the nape of his neck uncomfortably.

"what are you doing out here, Butters?" Kyle asked, looking the blond up and down, "and why are you all dressed up."

"Well isn't a boy j-just allowed to look nice every now and then?" Butters mumbled, rocking back on his heels. "a-and well, I'm waitin for someone." A pink blush blossomed on Butter's cheeks and a smile curled the corners of his lips.

Kenny looked from Kyle to Butters and then pressed his index finger to his own temple, looking even more uncomfortable than before. The three of them stood there for an uneasily long moment before Kenny finally piped up, "well that's just…fascinating… come on Kyle." He grabbed the jewish boy by the arm and tugged him into the diner and into one of the empty booths. Kyle peered around Kenny and out the window at where Butters still stood, awkwardly.

"I wonder what that's all about… I mean Butters is a total fucking Melvin but he isn't usually that jumpy…just weird." Kyle said as he and Kenny found an empty booth.

"Uh-yeah…" Kenny nodded he was at least glad the subject had changed off of Stan for a little while.

"Hey Kyle, hey Kenny, what can I get for you today?" asked the waitress as she walked over to their table, pulling out her pen and note pad. It was Bebe, her long coils of blond hair tied up out of her face in a messy pony tail. She looked good in her uniform, it fitted around her luscious curves and accentuated the assets that had begun to grace her form ever since puberty. She had an even rounded face with medina cheekbones and bright blue gray eyes. She had a winning smile and not to mention ample breasts that by Kenny's pretty accurate judgment couldn't be anything under DD's.

"Hey Bebe," Kyle said, not really looking at her, but instead still glancing over kenny's shoulder and out the window to where Butters was, "um..I'll just have a coffee…thanks." Bebe jotted down his order then turned to Kenny who was leaning his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on the table as he looked dreamily up at her, "Oh..I'll have one of you with everything."

Bebe lightly punched Kenny's shoulder and laughed, "Kenny, you crack me up." Kenny beamed and gave her a wink.

"I guess I'll have an order of bacon, and make sure it's not all under cooked, Craig is shitty with bacon." Kenny insisted, pursing his lips and speaking up louder as he said that. There was a voice from the kitchen a moment later, "I head that." The voice was monotone, but unmistakable. Kenny looked through the pick up window to see an already raised middle finger, displayed for his viewing pleasure.

After taking the orders Bebe shuffled off to give them to the Craig. A few minutes later Bebe returned with their coffee.

"Kyle….Kyle!" Kenny reached up a hand and snapped his fingers in front of Kyles face, bringing him back to the room. "dude…drink your damn coffee and stop looking at Butters, you're weirding me out."

"Sorry…" Kyle let out a sigh and picked up his coffee cup. "I dunno, Kenny, I'm just distracted. I mean I'm just thinking about St-" Kenny raised a hand and stopped him.

"I really…really don't want to talk about Stan right now. I just want to eat my bacon, drink my coffee, and fantasize about Bebe naked." The blond sported a shit eating grin and Kyle chuckled.

"Okay dude, I understand." He sipped at his drink and then lowered it again, peering into the dark black liquid, He wouldn't talk about it but it was all his mind would allow him to really think about…Stan.

Outside the snow was beginning to thicken, and Butters breath puffed out from his nose and mouth in clouds. Reluctantly he stopped his waiting and entered into the diner to warm up.

"You can sit with us, Butters." Kyle said with a smile. Kenny narrowed his eyes at the redhead from across the table but he was ignored.

"r-really fellas…uh...well okay." Butters smiled and slid into the booth beside Kyle, who attempted to order him a coffee from Bebe. Butters stopped him with a gentle touch of his fingers to the Jew's wrist, "oh, I would rather just have some chocolate milk." He said, smiling. Bebe took the order and a few minutes returned with the glass and placed it on the table in front of him. Kenny was chuckling and shaking his head slowly.

"Some things never change." He said with a grin, but Kyle frowned.

"well...I hope some things do change." He looked out the window again at the shower of white, his heart aching.

Butters grinned at Kyle, who was barely paying attention and then at Kenny who looked away from him uncomfortably.

"Stop it with that backward smile…" Kenny said snatching the plate of bacon out of Bebe's hands before she could even set it down on the table.

"oh, uh..sorry" Butters erased his smile and lifted his thumb to his lips, nibbling nervously on the tip of his nail. Kenny rolled his eyes and threw his orange hood back up around his face, drawing the strings tightly so that only his eyes were exposed.


	2. Chapter 2 I Don't Want to be Friends

*beep* *beep* *beep*

Without lifting his face out of his pillow, Stan reached up a hand and slammed it down on the snooze button. For an extended moment he laid there, struggling to breathe through the fabric before finally rolling over onto his back, resting the back of his forearm against his forehead. He tilted his head slightly, peering out the window, It was a blizzard, in the middle of the day. The way the sun reflected off the white world outside compensated for the fact that Stan had all his lights turned off. He had them off for a reason, his head was killing him, and now the brightness from the window was doing the exact same thing, causing the pounding to rise up behind his eyes and in his temples.

"_Well FUCK you, Kyle." …. "yeah, right here buddy" _

Stan groaned and sat up, kicking his legs over the side of his bed and forced himself to his feet. He was so hung over, or maybe even still a little drunk from earlier but either way he was already regretting what he had said to Kyle.

"_Kyle…I love you…You're a piece of shit though, Fuck you." _

He walked into his bathroom, flipped the light switch, wincing as the light pooled over him. He washed his face anyways, glancing at himself in the mirror as the water dripped down his cheeks. He looked….he looked…sickly, yeah even he could tell the difference that had begun to show itself over a month ago, he just didn't look-happy, anymore. He wasn't happy.

"_Look, Kyle..I'm just going to do my thing and you can do your thing, it's whatever." _

"_you don't really mean that...do you Stan?" _

Everything hurt and the days had begun to run together and Stan had to check his cell phone to see what day it was. It was Sunday, tomorrow he wouldn't be able to sleep all day, he would have to get up and go to school and face all the people he had driven away…once again. It was worse than that though, he had driven away the most important person in his life, his 'Super Best Friend'.

After splashing his face and drying off with a towel Stan moved to sit back on his bed, staring out the window despite the pounding in his head. He was thinking about Kyle, that infuriating redheaded Jewish boy that was the catalyst for all of this. He sort of hated him….he really hated him, but at the same time…"Fuck." Stan grumbled as he opened the door to his bedroom, only to see his father bounding down the hall at full speed, nearly bowling him over.

Randy Marsh darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving a great wind to sweep down the hall after him, nearly pushing Stan over for a second time. Stan shouldered his back pack and sighed heavily as her heard the deep guttural sounds of his father taking a dumb.

Stan walked downstairs and into the kitchen where his mother was making a late lunch. "Hello there, Stanly…you've been sleeping all day honey, are you hungry?" she asked, peeking over her shoulder as her boy slipped into a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing the top of his head.

"Yeah." He admitted, "Starving."

"Well that's good because I made sandwiches." She said as she turned, setting a plate of bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches down on the table in front of the blue eyed teen. "Where is your father, Stanly?"

"Taking a shit." Why did she care, anyways, Kyle thought.

"Stanly!"

"Sorry…" He reached out and snatched a sandwich off the plate and took a bite, getting way too much mayonnaise. He crinkled his nose but continued chewing. He hated that his parents had moved back in with each other, it wasn't like they were back together.

"Shit, Shit, Shit. You know Stan, you really shouldn't curse so much, it's very unflattering. Shit is all you say these days can't you be a little more couth?" His mother said in exasperation, as she set a few clean dishes to dry beside the sink.

"Yeah, sorry mom." Stan said as he stood up, taking the portable meal with him. "I'm going down to the lake."

"Again?"

"Why not, it's Sunday?"

"Don't you have homework you should be doing."

"I have it with me." Stan said, turning to show the book bag hanging off his shoulder.

"Okay well dress warmly, your coat, gloves and hat are hanging by the door.

"I will." Stan promised, exiting the kitchen and heading for the door. He paused by the couch, and looked back at his mother, who had already gone back to her work. He knelt down and slid his hand underneath it and pulled out the nearly empty bottle of gin, and quickly shoved it into his back pack, glancing back at his mom one more time before continuing to the door.

He dropped his bag and pulled on his brown coat, buttoning it up to the second to last button before pulling his red poof-ball hat over his ears. He stuffed his mittens into the depths of his pockets and opened the door with his bare hand. The snow had begun to let up, now it ebbed gently from the pale sky. Stan kept his hands in his pockets and looked up into the snow as he walked, the wet flakes landing on his face as he made his way towards the lake.

On his way there he passed the bus stop, the place that he, Kenny, Cartman, and Kyle and met nearly every day for school for the last who knows how many years, since first grade maybe. Not only was it that but it was the place they had all met for the very first time. Although the time was hazy he could remember it clear as if it had happened yesterday.

"_Hi, I'm Kyle." _

"_Hi, I'm Stan." _

Stan shook his head, he didn't want to think about Kyle, he didn't want to think at all. Trying to hush his mind he quickened his pace past the stop and continued into town.

"_Do you want to come play fireman with me?" _

Stan gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. A snowflake landed on his nose and he reached up to wipe his away before reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. As he pulled it out, his fingers stumbled over the form and it fell from his hand into a puddle of slush.

"Oh you have got to be shitting me." Stan growled, bending down to pick it up, rubbing it against his coat, and desperately trying to dry it off. He hadn't even really needed to check his phone, he was just doing it out of habit, there really wasn't anyone he wanted to talk to. He flipped the top of his phone up, it was black for a little too long but finally the screen came up and Stan exhaled, his tense shoulders loosening. To his surprise there was a text message, it was from Wendy.

Stan frowned, he hadn't talked to Wendy since they broke up, two months ago. It was weird to be getting a text from her now, he was pretty sure she hated him. She had begged Stan for a reason why, but Stan had simply floundered, he tried to come up with something but the only thing that he could manage to say was, "It's just not going to work out. My heart isn't in it." It was a lame excuse, but it was the truth- at least in some ways. It just wasn't going to work out because he just didn't love Wendy.

Wendy: Hi Stan. Need 2 see you. Can we talk?

Stan stared at the message, his frown deepening. He sighed and closed his phone without responding, sticking it back into his pocket as he continued to walk. He really just didn't want to deal with her.

"Mrhm mmhr mhr mrh mhrruh"

Butter's blinked a few times as Kenny spoke to him, then looked at Kyle, and then back rolled his eyes away from the window, leaning over the table to yank Kenny's hood open.

"Butters, pass me the syrup." Kenny said, again pointing to the bottle at the edge of the table, this time his words not muddled by his hoodie. Butters slid it across to his with a smile.

"That's disgusting Kenny, syrup on bacon." Kyle wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"What? It's good!" he said, pouring the gooey liquid all over the thick crinkled strips. With a broad playful grin he broke off a soaked piece and shoved it into his open mouth, chewing loudly. Butters giggled nervously, looking between them before his attention was draw to something moving outside the window.

"Oh hey…isn't that Stan?" he asked watching as the dark haired boy, all bundled in his hat and coat, dropped his cell phone into a fresh puddle, "Oh gosh, that's too bad...he dropped his phone." He said, scratching behind his ear with his index finger. Kenny turned in his seat and looked outside,

"Aw fuck." He said, turning back around. He wasn't cursing at the bad luck Stan was having with his phone, he was cursing, knowing that Stan being this close by meant that Kyle was certainly going to have to do something about it. Kenny's mouth tightened, "So…yeah you should try the bacon it's-" trying to distracted the red head who had perked up like a groundhog and was now already half-way standing up out of his seat, looking out into the snow where Stan was.

"- Butter's get up," Kyle interrupted Kenny and pushed his hands against Butters shoulder, forcing the small her boy out of his seat, nearly rolling the tiny thing right onto the floor.

"-o-o-kay." Butters allowed himself to be shoved out from the seat and pushed to the side. Kenny, fast as a snake, threw out and arm and caught him by the shoulder before the other blond could smack his tail bone against the tiles. Butters gave hooded hero a shy thank-you smile before righting himself. as Kyle rounded the table as he headed for the door. Kenny reached up, lifting slightly out of his seat as he caught Kyle by the hand, his reflexes – the product of dodging near fatal accidents on a regular basis- were really coming in handy at this moment.

"Dude…don't do this…don't do this to yourself…" Kenny's tone was pleading, and as Kyle looked down into the light blue eyes of his blond friend he knew that Kenny was just thinking about what was best for him, after all in the last few months every encounter Kyle had with Stan had left him miserable and it was almost always Kenny who ended up having to pick up the broken pieces of Kyle and help glue them all back into the right place. Kyle couldn't help but think that Kenny's eyes were also telling him, "don't make me see you all broken up again, it's not fair. You look like a girl when you cry and I have to force myself not to molest you!" Kenny attempted to insert a little humor, a last ditch effort in trying to distract the redhead.

Kyle's brows drooped a little, shadowing his bright green hews. "Sorry, Kenny…I have to."

Kyle tugged himself free of Kenny's grasp and pushed open the door, taking a moment to pause and lean back into the diner a bit, "and I do NOT look like a fucking girl when I cry." And wit that jogged down the stairs towards Stan's retreating form, leaving an awkwardly uncomfortable Kenny alone with Butters. As he neared, he raised a hand and called out.

"Stan! Hey, Stan, wait up!"

Stan paused, and turned, hands still in his pocket, brow scrunched in confusion. Of all the people to see just then, he had not expected it to be Kyle, but he knew the other boys voice and it sent an ice-pick stabbing through his heart.

"Oh…hi, Kyle." Stan said, standing there as Kyle came to a stop a few feet from him, bending over, trying to catch his breath. The tension that rose up from them was immediate. From Stan's side there was a darkness that writhed and coiled about his form, and from Kyles side was a pounding nervous sort of energy that sparked and flickered. The two powers seemed to collide within the space between then, silently wrestling for the duration of the moment.

"Hey man, where you going?" Kyle asked, panting slightly, reaching up to wipe his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffed, the cold seeming through his pores. Stan didn't respond right away, instead he looked Kyle over first. He looked a lot different than the little boy he had first met at the bus stop. Kyle was tall, his lean figure complimented his elegant, almost feminine jaw line and upturned nose, the top of which was speared with freckles from ear to ear. His bright green eyes were always clear, unlike Stan's deep blues that often looked stormy. Kyle's auburn hair fell in soft wavy coils around his face, unruly but still flattering even when most of it was stuffed up under his green ushanka, like it was today.

"I'm….fine." Stan lied, peeling his eyes away from the other boy.

"Well why don't you come eat with us, it's me Kenny and Butters."

Stan raised a dark brow, "You guys hang out with Butter's now?"

"Well no, not usually but he looked sort of lost so…." Kyle let out an unconvincing laugh and straightened himself up, having caught his breath.

"Oh. Okay."

"So what do you say, will you eat with us?" Kyle asked again, putting on his most winning smile. Stan looked back up at him and his shoulders hunched up a bit from tension.

"Um..no, I don't think so. I have…things to do." Stan finally said, turning on his heels.

"Oh come on, Stan, like what?" Kyle challenged, reaching up to put a hand on his retreating friends shoulder, forcing Stan to stop his escape turn. Kyle let go and looked into the deep blue pools of Stan's eyes and he could see pain, a lot of pain. Stan jerked away from Kyle's grip as if the touch burned him, only the burn didn't show up on his shoulder, instead it flared up beneath his eyes and along the bridge of his nose in the form of a subtle blush.

"I just have to…I should be going." Stan said, breaking their stare.

"Oh come on, Stan! You don't have anywhere to be. Do you? You're just running away again!"

Stan's mouth tightened and he glared at the ginger, "I do so…have a somewhere to be."

"Okay, where then."

"I'm going to the lake."

"Oh and what are you going to do at the lake?"

"Homework."

"Homework? Really? That's what's so important that you can't spend time with your super-best friend?" Kyle's tone was growing more and more exasperated.

"Well, we all can't be geniuses-and get by without studying like you do, Kyle." Stan snapped, making Kyle's who face scrunch up in discontent.

"Give me your bag." The angry Jew demanded.

"...What?"

"I said…give me your bag. Let me see what's in your bag.? Kyle stretched out a hand, extending his fingers.

"What? No!" Stan barked, shouldering away.

"I want to see what's in your bag, Stan!" Kyle twisted his wrist and snatched the strap of Stans bag off of his shoulder, tugging it towards him. Stan reached out as well, catching the side of the bag before it was yanked free from his hand.

"Give me back my bag, what the Fuck Kyle!"

Kyle didn't hesitate and quickly unzipped the largest part of the bag and reached inside. He could feel several books, what felt like a spiral notebook and yes…a bottle. He pulled it out and dropped the rest of the bag into the snow.

"Is this is, Stan?" Kyle asked, waving the near empty bottle of gin in front of him, "Is this what's more important than you're friends, then me? Is this the reason you've abandoned everyone?" Kyle's voice sounded hurt, accusatory, and angry all at once.

Stan tried to snatch the bottle out of Kyle's hand but missed. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Kyle!"

"You're a fucking addict, Stan! You need some god-damned help!" Stan reached for it Kyle wrenched it out of his reach again, and this time he hurled it out into the snow, where the bottle slammed against the bulk of a tree and shattered.

"What the FUCK, KYLE! Fuck you man! I'm not an addict! It just helps me get through the days in this shit hole of a town! This place is bucket of piss to drown rats in!"

"Oh I don't know what I'm talking about? Well I'm not the one who hasn't got any friends left and just mopes around like some faggy Goth kid…damn it, Stan, at least the Goth kids have each-other! We used to have each-other! What happened Man, when did you start hating me?"

Stan's gaze contorted and his fists clenched. "Things…things just change, Kyle, you need to get over it."

Kyle shook his head, "No, Stan. This is just fucked up. You can't just stand there and tell me that you don't care anymore!"

Stan and Kyle stood there, staring at each other, both with fire, rage in their eyes, their chests rising and falling heavily with the intensity of their argument.

"Kyle…I just can't.." Stan forced the words out between his teeth.

"You just can't what?"

"I just can't be around you!"

"Why, Why not? What did I ever do to you besides try and be your friend?"

"I don't want to be FRIENDS…" Stan's voice came out strangled, desperate even- the expression evident in his distressed eyes. "I can't explain it! I just can't. Everyone is better off without me around anyways. Just do yourself a favor, Kyle, and stay the hell away from me."

"Stan…" Kyle's couldn't believe Stan had really just come out and said it…he didn't want to be friends with him anymore."please…" Once again Kyle reached up and grabbed Stan's shoulder. "Here…at least take this…" Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Call this number…just…call it." Stan, almost without thinking, took the piece of paper as it was handed to him, and with that Kyle loosened and then removed his grip, turned and headed back towards the diner.

Stand looked after the redhead, his heart pounding like a hammer in his chest, his fingers clutching the paper. As he watched the back of Kyles head disappear through the door he followed the length of the restaurant, seeing Kenny and Butters staring at him through the window. Stan dropped his eyes and turned around, unfolding the paper. It was a number, and bellow it were scribbled the words

[Denver AA coordinator, Leon Silvers] Stan looked over his shoulder, watching Kenny patting a distressed looking Kyle on the back. He looked away and shoved the number into his pocket.


	3. Chapter 3 Butters has Problems

A/N: Just so it's clear. In this story there is no "Coon and Friends" it has never existed. Also, no one really knows who Mysterion is. Also, I will be taking some interesting liberties with Butter's character. Let it be known that DID or Dissociative Identity Disorder is in fact a real mental problem, but the way it is portrayed here in this story is entirely fictional and modified for the purposes of the story. Hope you enjoy!

"Why do you do these things to yourself, Kyle?" Kenny asked, pulling a spoon from his mouth, looking down at his miserable redheaded friend as the boy melted down into the booth across from him, sitting next to Butters who looked distressed by the situation.

"I don't know Kenny…I really, REALLY don't know." He mumbled with his head stuffed into his arms, leaning on the restaurant table.

"You sure are a glutton for punishment, why can't you just let it g-"

"I CAN'T let it go." Kyle slammed a fist down on the table, making both Kenny and Butters jump. Kyle lifted up his head and slid is hand down the length of his face, "I just…can't… I mean did you guys see him, did you fucking look at him? He looked so sad!"

"He looked pissed off." Kenny added, replacing the spoon in his mouth with his finger after scooping some syrup onto it. "And he looked even more pissed off when you took his liquor…that was liquor wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was."

"So he's carrying it around in his bag now…that's really attractive." Kenny chuckled

"It's not funny, Kenny…he's really hurting." Kyle growled, narrowing his eyes at the blond.

"yeah, yeah, sorry. I mean hell if I could afford to buy a bottle of alcohol twice a week I would be set for life, what more does a guy need besides well...you know soaking hot ass bitches in motor oil and attaching electrical boxes to their genitals. " He finished off his second plate of bacon and leaned back in the booth with a heavy, contented sigh. Kyle looked at the perverted blond like he had just grown a trunk. Kenny just patted his belly and then patted Kyles shoulder. "Alright, come on, lets get going…"

Kyle nodded and looked at Butters, "You coming with us?" he asked, and Kenny winced, that tightness squinching his face again.

Butters fiddled his fingers together and looked down at the table, "Well...uh…actually I'm waiting for someone." He said, peering out the window then, a frown appearing. For the second time Kenny winced, tugging the string of his orange hoody.

"You've been waiting for an hour now, Butters…have some respect for yourself, dude, whoever it is isn't coming…who is it you're waiting for, anyways?" Kyle asked as he pushed Kenny up and out of the booth, following him in a fluid motion. Kenny frowned at this and looked off in the other direction.

"Well I..uh…It doesn't really matter I guess, you're probably right, I don't think they are coming. Maybe they didn't want to see me after all…"

Hearing this, Kyle perked up a little, happy for a small distraction. He blinked a few times as he looked down at the petite boy still seated at the table, "note? Butters…did you get stood up for a date or something?" he asked, finally piecing together the forlorn looks, the nice clothes, the blushing, the waiting.

"Not really a date, just….I just wanted to…meet up." Butter's was blushing again. We've only ever met under…strange circumstances."

"Anything with you is strange circumstances." Kenny grumbled under his breath, not loud enough for anyone but Kyle to hear.

"Come with us Butters, Who is she?" Kyle offered, the smile finally returning to his face. Kenny opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but shut if quickly.

"Mmm. Well….okay fine, you guys aren't going to believe this but I have a new friend a reeeally popular new friend!" Butters seemed to light up, grinning.

Kyle looked at Kenny, Kenny looked at Kyle both with a brow raised.

"For the last few weeks I've been visited by…MYSTERION!" Butters practically yelled it, and then quickly put a hand over his mouth, adjusting his volume level to just above a whisper. Kenny smacked his palm against his brow and pivoted on his heels with a 'Jesus, h. fucking Christ.'. Kyle's shoulders dropped.

"Oh…uh..okay. That's…that's great Butters" Kyle tried to sound convincingly interested. Butters was grinning behind his fingers.

"Yeah, it's pretty great! I didn't even know he was visiting my house until I found a piece of purple cloth hanging from my window. At first I didn't know what to make of it but later I found footprints and do you know what I said Kyle, hu, know what I said?" he was practically bouncing out of his seat.

"Uh….what did you say Butters…" Kyle glanced over at Kenny who was standing by the door, ready to leave any moment.

"I said that there was no way any r-regular person could climb up here so It had to be Mysterion, I don't know…I'm usually not so good at solving problems but it was like there was this little voice inside my head… well anyways I left out a plate of cookies and a not that asked for Mysterion to meet me here…I've come every day…but…he hasn't come yet…"

Kyle scratched the back of his neck and backed away from Butters, "Well that's…that's just great Butters, I'm going to go with Kenny now." With that Kyle too pivoted and briskly caught up with Kenny, who opened the door for him and shoved a hand into his back to push him out, avoiding any more "butter's delays"

"B-bye Kyle, Bye Kenny!" Butters called after them, he waved at them as they left, smiling as brightly as he could manage before looking down at his half empty cup of coffee. As if on cue, Bebe rounded the corner and topped off the cup, smiling at him.

"Sticking around for awhile, Butters?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Can I get'tcha anything else?"

"No…I don't think they are coming.." Butters looked totally dejected.

Bebe smiled and tilted her head to the side, "Awww…Butters…maybe this person is just shy."

"Mmm..maybe…." Butters sighed, "maybe I'll have a blueberry muffin, if-if that's okay."

Bebe chuckled and nodded her head, "One blueberry muffin coming right up. "

Butters smiled and looked back out the window. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a purple fabric flower and smiled at it, he had made it out of the fabric he found on his window. Sure he may have never actually seen Mysterion, but he was sure that the masked hero was watching over him. However, if Mysterion wanted to be his friend…why hadn't he come to the diner like Butters had asked?

With a frown Butters tugged his knees up to his chest and hugged them as he stared at his coffee. He was foolish to think that he would come after all …maybe he was shy...or maybe he only wanted to see him when he…wasn't quite himself.

Butters smacked his forehead lightly, "Of course he wouldn't come, that would compromise his secret identity!" Bebe looked at Butters with a raised brow, sliding the warm blueberry muffin across the table to him.

"Um… right then, call if you need anything else."

Butters giggled and covered his mouth with his hand, "ah...thanks, Bebe" He let out a long sigh, he wasn't sure if he was feeling relieved or not about this discovery. Of course Mysterion wouldn't show up to meet him at a diner in the middle of the day, even if he did show up at night! If Butters wanted to meet Mysterion he would have to do a stake out!

"Butter's are you okay?" Bebe asked, coming up to the table just as Butters was scrambling his things together.

"I'm great, I think...I know what I have to do now! Thanks Bebe!" He leaned in and kissed her girl on the cheek, dropped his money on the table and bolted out the door, leaving his blueberry muffin behind.

_Two Week Ago…_

"GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND STAY THERE!"

The sound of quick feet ascending the staircase echoed through the house as loud as the voice that rumbled after them.

With tears rolling down his face Butters ran into his room, turned, and slowly closed the door as quietly as he possibly could before turning back around and pressing his back to it, sobbing softly. He squinted his eyes shut and brought his hands up to cover his face, which felt hot beneath his fingers. Slowly he let himself slide down the door until he was slumped against the floor. He drew his knees up to his chest and cried there for a long while.

"why can't I just be good…why can't I just be the good kid I'm supposed to be?" he posed, to no one in particular.

"_Just kill them." _Growled a voice inside his head, "_If we can't be good then we could just be really really bad. I want to hurt someone, anyone!" _Butters moved his hands from his face to the side of his head. He moaned and gritted his teeth. He hated when the voices would get this loud.

"shut-up shut-up shut-UP!" Butters tried to steady his breathing, but he felt dizzy.

"_We should stab them in the chest!" _Came the darkness again but was soon replaced by another voice that bubbled up to take it's place.

"_Nobody likes meeeee, nobody understands how hard it is to be meeee." _As this voice pierced through Butter's mind the words poured from his mouth_, "_No one knows what it's like to be me! We're never going to be normal!"

After this outburst Butters sat on the floor in silence, breathing heavily. A long moment passing he pushed himself up and in what seemed like a sort of trance he walked over to his closet and flung open the door and began rummaging around inside. Shirt after shirt was tossed over his shoulder before he found what he was looking for.

It was a pretty dress, though simple; green with a floral pattern and a ribbon to tie around the waste. Butters laid it out on the bed in front of him and began to slowly undress. He pulled off his solid moss colored shirt and tossed it to the floor, then unbuttoned his pants and slid them off, followed by his boxers which he kicked to the side. He then reached up under the green dress, lifting up a pair of womans underwear. They were plane white with a pink bow in the front. He held them open and stepped through them, pulling them up over his backside, and tucked himself inside before reaching for the dress and tugging it on overtop his head. Once it was on he smoothed it down over his lean figure and turned to his dresser. Opening up the first drawer he began to push aside his clothes until he found the blond wig that was hidden beneath them. He forced it on over his real hair and tucked the fly'away pieces into the cap. After this he opened up a small box that had been tucked away beside the wig and pulled out three silk ribbons, tying his extended hair into pigtails with each and then tugging back a fistful of fake bangs and tied them up with the last ribbon. When this was finished he moved slowly to sit down on his bed, staring at himself in the mirror across the room. It wasn't Butters anymore…

Marjorine looked at herself in the mirror and smiled softly as she ran her fingers through her blond hair. She reached under the bed and pulled out a small bag of makeup and poured it out in her lap. She tapped rouge on her cheeks, flicked the mascara brush through her lashes and pressed a soft pink gloss to her lips. She even patted a little rouge on her knees, watching the powder puff up around her. It made her giggle.

"I have small breasts…" Marjorine said, pouting as she pressed her fingers to her chest, trying to grab a handful, "I'm so flat…."

She stood up and spun herself around, admiring the way her dress fluttered around her mid-thigh, and how her bows aligned perfectly with each other. Fluttering over to Butter's bedside table she hit play on the radio, twisting the knob until she could hear Brittney Spears loud and clear. With a loud squeal she bounced back in front of the mirror.

_Meanwhile…a few houses down…_

…a figure moved nimbly from house to house, cape billowing out behind as long strides carried the shadow impressive distances. The moon hung like a sickle above the sleeping neighborhood and it's pale glow was reflected in the haunted eyes of South Park's resident vigilante.

Mysterion slide down a row of shingles, circling his arms back behind him as he nearly toppled over when one came loose and bounced down the gutter and into the bushes bellow. Letting out a sharp breath he came to a stop, deciding to take a bit of a breather, incidentally choosing as is resting place the house directly across the street the Stotch residence.

He was nursed his sore right hand, holding it up to the moonlight. He had given his dad a pretty intense right hook, one to be proud of. He was glad his father hadn't a clue that it was his son and not some midnight stranger who had clocked him such a good one for harassing his little sister.

Mysterion perched on the edge of the roof, opening and closing his fist when something caught his eye and he looked up, and into the brightly lit window in front of him. His brow furrowed…that was Butters room wasn't it? But that wasn't Butters, twirling around inside…it?

Curious enough to get a closer look, Mysterion leapt down the his seat and darted across the street, using the drain pipe to climb up onto the Stotch's garage and then easily made his way up onto the windowsill, shrouded and hidden against the darkness in his deep shaded costume. With amazement he watched as Butters twirled around, flipping fingers up against bobbing pigtails as he did, making then bounce up and then flutter back to his shoulders.

Butters wasn't just dressed in a wig and dress, he was wearing lipstick which was some sort of pearly color, blush, and was that eyeliner? It didn't look like Butters at all but who else could it be? Did Butters maybe have a sister that Mysterion didn't know about?

The dark avenger crouched on the windowsill with mouth-agape. This person…this tirling ball of soft light was…beautiful. So beautiful in fact that Mysterion didn't even notice that he was loosing his balance again, and tumbled backwards. Hastily he grasped for the top of the window, missed, and then clutched for the sill, managing to catch himself but causing a clatter against the panes. With a gasp he began to pull himself up. Just as the window was flung open and the tiny dancer inside stuck her head out.

Mysterion winced, shutting his eyes tightly and thought "still thoughts".

Marjorine squeaked, looking about wildly into the night, but saw no one. She looked to the left and then to the right but there was nothing there. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest, but after staring out into the blackness for a long while she resigned that there must not have been anything there. She turned and moved back towards the mirror, pulling out a hair brush to begin nit-picking.

Mysterion, who had been hanging there by his finger tips the whole while, was finally able to pull himself back up and steadied himself in the frame of the open window. He had to know who this person was…

"Who are you?" he asked in a deep voice. Marjorine, sucked in a sharp breath, startled for the second time, and nearly screamed as she turned around. Her eyes drew open wide and she took in the image of the figure at her window. 

"You're…..You're Mysterion."

"Yes…I am, who are you and what are you doing in Butter's room?" Mysterion asked, his voice tinged with harshness.

Marjorine blushed a shade of rose and pressed the nail of her pinky finger against her bottom row of teeth as she spoke. "I'm…Marjorine…I'm here when Butter's isn't here." She explained, batting those long darkened lashes.

Mysterion found himself growing hot under his mask, "Uh…right…" He didn't really understand what this girl was saying, but she was undeniably the cutest thing he had ever seen.

"Won't you come in…Mysterion?"

"So…you aren't Butters?" Mysterion asked as he slowly cautiously into the room.

"No silly…do I look like Butters?" Marjorine asked. Mysterion swallowed hard.

"No…I guess you don't…" Mysterion remained close to the window, his eyes narrowed. Marjorine was smiling softly at him, even as she backed herself up towards the bed, letting herself fall into a sitting position as she felt the mattress hit the back of her knees.

"Butter's is a friend though….he doesn't really know that I'm here." With that the blond girl reached over to the other side of the bed and grabbed 'welington bear' tugging him to her flat chest. "You see, he can hear me sometimes…and the others…inside his head" she tapped her index finger to her temple as she explained. The whole while Mysterion, unable to stop the churning of his brain, half listened while his eyes scanned the strangely supple form before him. This girl…this boy…damn this was Butters, it was certainly Butters but at the very same time it wasn't Butters at all. It seemed like such a complicated idea and yet it made some sense when rolled around in the head a little while.

He was processing all this information when his brow furrowed, what was that…it was barely visibly if you weren't looking and the makeup that covered it made it even harder to see but it couldn't have been anything else.

"What is that..on your face?" Rushing forward Mysterion grabbed Marjorines arm as she attempted to turn away, trying to hide her face, "what. Is that?" he asked his voice growing darker.

"Oh it's..it's nothing."

"that's a black eye…who gave this to you?"

"It's….It's just Butter's parents…they…we…we're bad and so they punish us." Marjorine, twisted the toe of her foot nervously against the carpet. Mysterion's teeth grinded. That was something he cou;dn't stand. Fucking parent, allways thinking they can get by with anything they want, including hitting their kids. He knew this first hand, he had seen his little sister get hit before and this girl he was now standing so close to reminded him of the pain he had felt being unable to do anything when not in this damned costume.

"So let me get this straight….you're not Butters…Butters isn't hear right now…and Butter's parents did this to your eye?" Mysterion moved a few feet further into the room as Marjorine nodded.

"That's right…oh please…please don't tell Butter's I was here, it would frighten him if he knew I could come out whenever I wanted to!" The pleading in her voice was heart wrenching, the way her soft pink lips gave him that pouty frown Mysterion caught himself growing hot beneath his mask.

"Uh..yeah, sure..whatever..I have to go." The vigilante turned on his heels and quickened to the window, leaping back up into it's frame. He could feel the anger rising like a serpent in his gut. He had to get away and clear his mind… he had to admit that he wasn't too surprised that Butter's parents had hit him, he always knew that they were fucking freaks.

"Please don't!" A delicate hand reached out, "I…I want you to stay." Mysterion shook his head, feeling like he had had his mind blown quite enough for one night, he knew Butter's was crazy but this…this was just incredibly insane.

"Well…will you come back, please...please say you'll come back…" Marjorine was at the window, her hands clasped together at her chin, her bright blue eyes doey and sparkling.

"Okay…yeah…I'll come back..." And with that, Mysterion disappeared into the night, and he would return, at that moment he couldn't comprehend just how often he would return and just how involved he would get.


	4. Chapter 4  Real Friends Bribe Eachother

A/N: I want to thank all of you who have been reading and commenting on this story. I was pleasantly surprised by all the fun and positive feedback that has been coming my way. I want to assure you all that so long as I keep getting comments about people enjoying the story and wanting more I will continue working on it. If there is anything you would really like to see happen in the story feel free to tell me about it and I will always be sure to consider. Thanks again, and enjoy, Sorry that this chapter is a short one but more will be on the way soon. 3 GlibCharm

"DAMN IT! You have GOT to be kidding me!" Kyle groaned tossing the xbox controller down on the floor in front of him, his face scrunching in rage.

"GAHAHAHA, MMPRH mmrpph mhppr!" Kenny jolted both his arms up into the air as he cheered on his own victory, shaking the controller above his head. As he dropped his hands again he took one to the tie of his hoodie and pulled it loose, tossing the cowl back from his face. "You just got effed in the A! Suck my cock, Kyle!"

The Jewish boy growled and reached out, yanking the controller out of his friends hand, "Whatever, dude! How the hell did you get so good at this game? You don't even have an xbox at your house!" Kenny shrugged and grabbed a fist full of popcorn out of the bowl and shoved it into his mouth.

"Okay fine, lets go again, this time I get the Type 95, so go fuck yourself Kenny." Kyle barked.

"No fucking way dude." Kenny challenged

"Guys I'm seriously, it's my turn to play, so you can both just suck my bawls, We all chipped in so technically the game is one fourth and one half mine!" Eric Cartman snatched the good controller away from Kyle.

"You are so fucking stupid fat ass, that doesn't even make any sense. Plus, you did NOT chip in any money, you just got Butters to fork over some cash so if you really want to get technical, this game partly belongs to Butters." Kyle snarled, pointing a finger into Cartman's face.

"Weeell last time I checked, Butters isn't here is he. So it's my turn." Cartman grinned, plopping himself down between Kyle and Kenny. It had been a long time since Cartman was the completely useless tub of lard he had once been, now he was a completely useless pile of muscle. He had been a bear, thanks to football for the last several years. No one really saw it coming but before anyone knew it Cartman was slimmed down to a respectable weight, he was still large, much larger than Kenny or Kyle but he didn't have that double chin or fat rolls hanging down to his knees, there was still a bit of a belly there, but it wasn't hard to see that underneath all that was a solid wall of impenetrable muscles. This developing fact had been something that really got under Kyle's skin, by far Kyle was the smallest, he wasn't weak but all of his muscles here sleek and lean, from running track, there wasn't any of that bearishness to him, to be honest he had an almost womanly delicacy to him that Kenny always gave him shit for.

"Fine, whatever you fat piece of shit, I'm going to go get more snacks." Kyle grumbled and stood up, brushing himself off as Kenny restarted the game.

"this is sweet." Cartman shoved a fist full of popcorn into his mouth before pressing start. Kyle rolled his eyes and was about to head to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. He wasn't sure who it could be, he wasn't expecting anyone, but with a shrug he walked over towards the front door and put his eye to the peep hole.

Standing in the distorted lens of was the wide angle view of a brunet boy with a blue boggin hat smashed down over his ears, a hat that Kyle would recognize anywhere.

"dude, guys...what is Craig doing here?" but the other two boys were two busy throwing insults at each other as they played. Kyle huffed and went ahead and opened the door. Craig looked how he always did, perpetually bored, the only difference was that he was still wearing his uniform from the diner, although his apron was off and flung over his left shoulder.

"Hey Craig, whats up?" Kyle asked, leaning against the door frame. Craig blinked a few times and then looked around Kyle at the other two boys sitting on the floor.

"You guys playing Modern Warfare 3?" He asked in his nearly monotone voice.

"Uh yeah, what do you want Craig?"

"Here." Craig forked over four blue pieces of paper, holding them out for Kyle to take. "Even though I fucking hate you guys, I figured I should invite you anyways." Kyle took the papers and flipped them over to read them.

"Invitations?"

"Yeah, my parents are leaving for the New Year so I'm having the whole class over, even you bitches." At this Cartman yelled from inside the house

"Is that Pussy Face Craig?" Hearing this Craig just bolted up his middle finger and held it around the side so that Eric could see it.

"Okaay, so this next weekend then?" Kyle confirmed, letting the door close half way to keep the two parties out of eachothers faces.

"yeah Saturday, or come you clean up afterwards too, no exceptions." Craig said as he retracted his finger. "And you can bring your bitchy friend Stan just make sure he doesn't throw up everywhere and make everyone feel like shit." And with that and a slight wave to Kyle, Craig turned on his heels and walked towards another house.

"Dude, guys, Craig is having a party next weekend, everyone's going to be there." Kyle said as he shut the door.

"Bitchin." Kenny said, his tongue clamped between his teeth as he maneuvered around the map looking for the best place to snipe Cartman. Eric just made a grunting sound, neither one of them paying much attention. Kyle looked down at the invitations in his hand. There was one for all of them…and then an extra, the one with Stan's name on it.

"There is an invitation here for Stan too…" Kyle said, speaking a little louder this time. This broke Kenny's concentration on the game and he got a bullet to the head as he turned to look at Kyle.

"Oh Fuck no, Like we could get him to go anyways." He pointed out, setting down the controller, ignoring Erics hollers of victory as the game menu popped up with his name in first place.

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't try." Kyle said, insisting.

"Yeah for seriously, Kyle why don't you leave faggoty man crush on his own, he obviously hates your guts and everything."

"SHUT THE HELL UP CARTMAN!"

"Why do you want the pussy to come to the party anyways?" Cartman added.

Kyle dropped himself down onto the couch behind the other two boys and kneeded his fingers into his temples. "Maybe if we showed Stan a really really great time at the party then he would remember how not shitty the world is!"

"You have got to be kidding me." Cartman chuckled, elbowing Kenny in the arm.

"Please guys, come on you have got to help me figure out a way to get Stan to come to the party!" Kyle pleaded, "I have to get Stan to see that the world isn't that bad! I want my Super Best Friend back."

Kenny stared at Kyle with a disgruntled look on his face. "and what am I going to get out of it?"

"Yeah what do we get out of it?" Cartman interjected. Kyle looked wounded

"Oh come on guys, really?"

"Yes." Cartman and Kenny said in unison. Kyle groaned and thought for a minute before finally speaking.

"Okay fine, Kenny if you help me get Stan back to his old self that I will GIVE you my xbox, and Cartman…" Kyle narrowed his eyes, "I'll give you my Modern Warfare 3 game."

Kenny's mouth popped open in disbelief and Cartman was already fist pumping the air. "Okay fine, Stan, you have yourself a deal." Kenny grinned, looking with desire at the shiny black game system.

"Fuck yeah, I'll help you get your douche back so you can use him to clean out your vagina, and you give me MW3." Eric and Kenny both burst out laughing.

"One of these days, Cartman..I swear to God…You two just remember, if nothing works and we can't get Stan back..well then you guys aren't getting a God Damned Thing!"

"Okay, okay, We get it… so what exactly do we have to do?" Cartman asked as he picked up the odern warfare 3 box off the carpet, stroking it longingly.

"Well I haven't exactly figured that out yet, I'm going to need you're guys help. We need to think of something that will be sure to make sure that Stan will go to the party, something that will make sure he just couldn't possibly ditch it." Kyle pounded his fist against his open palm, determination in his voice.

"Yeah but that's not exactly going to be easy to do." Kenny said, shrugging.

"We could steal all of his money and then promise him that there will be free booze at the party." Cartman added, the two laughed together again, Kyle just frowned but decided to just let it go this time.

"what if we send his parents away and then send him a ransom note note or something like that?"

"No, that's stupid Cartman, we need to make sure that he feels like he HAS to be there." The three bounced ideas off each other for quite some time before finally Cartman has had enough, and grabbed the xbox controller again.

"Okay, I'm sick and tired of this shit, I just want to play Xbox, we'll come up with something tomorrow, and just worry about pussy-ass-bitch..i mean Stan, later." Kyle had to agree, not with the pussy-ass-bitch part but most definitely with the being sick and tired of brain storming part. He would just have to wait until tomorrow after everyone had taken a break from thinking about it. He knew that they just had to come up with something that would work.


	5. Chapter 5 Friendly Fire

Ch 5

"And that, student's, is why Michael Moore is a big fat stupid white man…any questions?" Mr. Garrison drew a heavy white line beneath the activists name in chalk before turning to face his students, most of whom stared blankly up at the front, at least those that weren't asleep. Turning back around the teacher continued to drone on about other annoying individuals who had impacted the political system in one way or another.

Kenny looked as though he was about to chew off his own arm, staring with wide dazed eyes at his fingers, an expression that very clearly said "if someone doesn't kill me now then I'll do it myself." His hood was up around his ears, string pulled tightly- if he was going to start eating his fingers he would at least have to loosen the cloth down around his chin. It wasn't uncommon for Kyle to consider eating himself when Garrison ranted about who-gave-a-fuck-what.

Kyle was reading a note Eric had passed to him, and was already snarling down at the doodle of himself being hung from a tree, titled, "My Beautiful Dream". The redhead wadded the image up into a ball and pelted it at Cartman's head while Garrison's back was turned.

Bullseye, right in cheek.

"mmrphr mrmmph mrmp" Kenny said, leaning over towards Kyle who grumbled back in response.

"I know, man, I'm about to chew my hand off too. I want to hurry up and get to science class so we can blow something up."

"mpphr mehr!" Kenny gave Kyle an approving thumbs up.

Stan was sitting in the back of the class, knocked out cold by sheer boredom, a little puddle of drool dripping out onto the desk in a shape that vaguely resembled a goldfish. His hair was ruffled, his poof-ball hat resting in his lap. The bell rang and his head popped up, schedule sticking to his cheek and a little string of spit dangling from his chin. He blinked his eyes a few times before reaching up to pull it off. He wiped a hand across his mouth and shook his head to wake himself up.

"Oh thank Christ." He grumbled, shoving his books into his bag, and standing up with the rest of the class to file out into the hall. He shot a look over to Kyle and Kenny, the two laughing about something he couldn't make out. As he headed to get his books for his next class he noticed something, stopping dead in the hall way.

"No…damn it." It was Wendy, standing at his locker and to his dismay she had already locked her eyes on him. Well, there was no avoiding it now, it looked like he would just have to talk with her. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans he made his was over to his ex girlfriend.

"Hi, Stan…" Wendy said, looking up at him. Stan was a tall guy, even walking around in his depressed hunch he was taller then Wendy by quite a bit, something she had always liked about him. Most of the other guys at the school were short, and the difference set him apart, especially as a Basketball player. "How has basketball practice been going?" she asked, hugging her books to her chest and putting on her most winning smile. It wasn't exactly the best line she could have come up with after having not spoken to Stan in so long.

"Um…practice has been fine." Stan said, opening up his locker, only glancing at Wendy from the

Corner of his eyes. He just couldn't bring himself to look her directly-not after so long and all the bad

blood that was between them. The breakup had been pretty brutal, for a long while none of the girls in

the whole class would talk to him, even when assigned to a group project. Things had changed since

then, however, now it was Stan that avoided everyone-boys and girls included.

"I heard that the Cow's are expected to go to the championship this season, that should be really cool to se-" After removing his books for the next class Stan shut his locker with a loud clang and finally turned to face Wendy.

"What do you want Wendy?" He asked, trying to push the conversation in some sort of direction.

"Well, can't I just want to talk to you?" Wendy's brows wilted, making her look vulnerable. Wendy had really changed over the years, her hair had grown to an especially long length and was artfully pulled back away from her face, with the exception of her fan of bangs. Her purple knit cap was stylishly tilted towards the back of her head, giving her lilting look. Her breasts filled out her smart looking skirt suit, a style that fit her strong and leftist personality with feminine grace. She was certainly no push over and to see her looking so fragile made Stan let out an almost defeated sounding sigh. He could tell she was really putting a lot of effort into this conversation.

"Well, no, Wendy…not really, I mean we haven't talked in weeks so what makes today so special?" He asked, scratching the back of his head, looking up at the clock on the wall, there was only 2 minutes before the next class started.

"It's you who haven't talked to me…you really haven't talked to anyone in so long I guess I've just gotten really worried about you." As Stan pushed away from his locker, Wendy was quick to heel, following him as he walked.

"Well there isn't anything to worry about, and shouldn't you be getting to your class." Stan tried to quicken his pace, hoping she would give up and just back off, but no such luck.

"Stan, come on can't you at least give ma few minutes of your time? I try to catch you after practice, I even went to KFC with the team, but you didn't go with them. They say that you never do." Wendy frowned, "they say that you go home after practice every single day. You know, when you stopped hanging out with me I was annoyed, when you stopped hanging out with Kenny and Cartman I thought it was strange, and when you stopped hanging out with Kyle I was worried." Nothing ever got past Wendy, Stan should have known that she was watching closesly this whole time, it was just in her nature.

"Look," Stan stopped, sighing again as he turned to face her, "I'm really…really busy. I have Basketball and I have homework, I don't really have time-" This time it was Wendy who interrupted, and Stan couldn't help but be reminded of Kyle, who had worn that very same expression on his face when he had caught him outside the diner a few days ago. Wendy's lips were drawn tightly, her brows knitted together just belong the fringe of her bangs.

"Oh yeah well I figured that you were hanging out with the Basketball team, but when I found out you weren't even doing that I got really, really worried. I just want you to know that I'm here for you and I want to be friends again!"

Stan winced. Wendy was good, way too good and suddenly it registered just how dangerous that could be to have her constantly snooping around in his business. He wanted to make sure that this stopped now.

"You don't have time for friends, or you just don't have the time for me? Stan I am not asking for much from you, in fact all I am asking is that you have lunch with me today, just lunch…have lunch with me and I promise I will leave you alone! Just give me a chance to see that you really are alright and I won't bother you again." Stan gritted his teeth. Damn it, girls. How could he say no to this, it wasn't like Wendy had ever done anything to him...He needed to make this go away. it was just hard, every time he ended up spending quality time with someone it didn't take them long to realize that they had made a terrible mistake, they just couldn't deal with his rotten attitude. It had been a long time since he had tried, however…and it wasn't going to be for very long, lunch was only an hour after all and then she was promising to leave him alone.

"Fine. Fine, Wendy, I will have lunch with you just…lower your voice." Some students, the ones still out in the hall had begun to stare, perhaps because Wendy had begun to get rather emotional, or perhaps because no one had seen

"Okay then," Wendy smiled, and nodded, finally stratified, "then I will see you when the bell rings." And Stan was left standing in the hall with the other students who were a few minutes late to class.

Stan had his next class with Kyle and was always excessively awkward coming into a room that they were already in and so usually he struggled to get to class early so he could slide into a seat in the back without feel weird. He wasn't going to get that luxury today; the door to the science class was already shut. He was about to open it when suddenly there was a noise inside. There was a string of loud popping and crackling sounds, followed by a huge boom that shook the door on it's frame.

Stan, taken aback, stepped away from the door just in time for it to be flung open, a stream of thick black smoke billowing out. A few students inside were screaming, and two students that Stan recognized as Tammy Warner and Tweek Tweak came barreling out, coughing.

"Oh jesus! Oh my God!" Tweak cried as he bolted past Stan down the hall. Tammy stumbled to the lockers on the other side of the hall before sitting down, breathing heavily. Stan stood there, unsure of exactly what to do. There were more voices that could be heard coming from inside the room.

"OH MY GOD! IT'S STILL ON FIRE!" someone yelled, and a few more students yelped. Stan sucked in a sharp breath as something finally clicked inside his head. Kenny was in there….KYLE was in there. Everything seemed to slow down for Stan, just for a moment, as he flung himself forward, pushing over a small red headed girl that was running out into the hall. The smoke was still thick and it was near impossible to see, Stan desperately felt his way along the wall to his right until he found the fire extinguisher. Just as his fingers wrapped around the handle the alarm went off, blaring it's siren throughout the entire school.

More students filed out into the hall, but Kenny and Kyle weren't amongst them. The Science teacher, Mrs. Dreibel could be heard trying to direct the children out of the class, following them out of the thick of the smoke. Towards the deepest corner of the lab a fire had risen up towards the ceiling. It must have been some sort of chemistry accident. Stan tried to check to make sure that the extinguisher was the proper one, but the smoke was too thick, usually he wouldn't trust the school staff to do something right if someone paid him but he didn't really have a choice. Stan pulled the pin and aimed the nozzle at the shooting flames and pushed down the lever.

Stan was starting to feel dizzy, breathing in all that smoke was far more dangerous that the fire was, which had now dwindled down to nothing but sparks. With the fire under control, and the whole right side of the room covered in thick white foam the basketball play searched franticly with his eyes for his missing friends.

"Kyle!" Stan could only see an odd shape moving towards him, "Kenny?" only when they were basically on top of him could Stan see who it was. It was Kenny, his mouth and nose mostly protected from the smoke by his hood, and with an arm flung over his shoulder was Kyle, who seemed only barely conscious. Kenny stumbled, fell forward and nearly lost his grip on Kyle's waste. Stan rushed forward and scooped Kyle up on the opposite side of the blond and the two of them dragged the smallest boy out into the hall and all the way down to the double doors, which were flung open with waves of students pouring out onto the lawn.

The fire trucks had finally arrived and they were organizing a squad to head into the building. Teachers were counting the students, trying to make sure that everyone was accounted for. Ambulance sirens hummed and the red lights whirled. Stan and Kenny finally dropped to their knees, covered in a mix of white from the extinguisher and black smears of ash. They laid Kyle out on the grass.

"We need a medic over here!" Kenny yelled, trying to wave over one of the uniformed men from the ambulance. Stan hovered over his unconscious friend, patting his cheek lightly with his hand. "Kyle, Kyle! Come on Kyle, wake up dude! Come on!" He reached up and tugged the green hat off his head and smoothed back red hair from his freckled brow. "Kyle! Come on, Kyle, please wake up!" Tears were welling up in Stan's eyes and he barely realized that someone was asking him to step back. He was lost, totally and completely lost as he looked at Kyle's motionless form.

Finally Stan was yanked back away so that the paramedics could get in to resuscitate Kyle. It was Kenny would had grabbed him, tugging him backwards by the shoulders. "Stan, calm down! Let them do their job, dude." Apparently they had been trying to pull Stan away for several minutes before Kenny was finally able to manage it.

"Oh my fucking God, Kenny, oh my fucking God what if he dies! What if Kyle dies?" Stan was near hysterical, "We can't let him die!" Kenny raised up his hands, trying to settle him. Pulling his hood down from over his mouth he motioned for Stan to just bring it down a few notches.

"I know, I know, Stan. STAN. Kyle is going to. .Right now I need you to just try and calm, the fucking fuck down. Fuck." Stan took a few deep breaths, looking into Kenny's level blue eyes with his own wild hews. "You're about at a 10, I need you to come down to about a 5, can you do that for me right now?" Kenny added, moving from his knees to sit beside Stan on the grass. Stan took a few more deep breaths and ran the back of his hand across his eyes, catching a few tears before they fell. By the time their teacher came around and counted them 'here' he had managed to get himself under control.

Kyle was lifted onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask fastened over his nose and mouth. Stan watched them load him into the back of the ambulance and turned to look at Kenny with panic. "He is not going to the hospital alone." He demanded, and without hesitation Kenny nodded and the two headed into the parking lot towards Stan's car.

Stan rounded to the drivers side and pulled out his keys, unlocking it for both of them before dropping down behind the steering wheel. Stan had gotten the dark blue Jetta for his seventeenth birthday, he was so obsessed with taking care of it that the inside still had that new car smell. Kenny ran his hand along the dashboard, grinning.

"It's been a long ass time since I've been in your car." Kenny said, settling in. Stan just pointed to Kenny's seat belt before fastening his own. His mind was with Kyle, in the ambulance. He couldn't focus, he put the car into reverse and stomped on the gas petal. The wheels spun angrily but the car didn't go anywhere.

"Dude, Stan…" Kenny reached over and pushed the parking break down. Immediately the car zoomed backwards, flying into the rear-end of the car in the row behind them. Stan didn't even pause to assess the damage, he flung it into drive and the two of them took off for the hospital. A trail of dust rose up behind them as they peeled out of the parking lot. Kenny could see the other students, in lines, making their way back into the school. He could see Craig watching them go, his middle finger raised high for them to see, mouthing something that, to Kenny, looked like, "You can't leave early!" Kenny grinned at him and returned the gesture.

Kenny was no stranger to the hospital, to be honest even with Kyle in dire straits he was feeling rather elated. He couldn't believe that it wasn't hip strapped to that ironing board of a stretcher. It was a pretty good feeling knowing that he had avoided being mince-meat, he really wasn't used to it. However as they sped down the road his mood was falling, Kyle wasn't out of the woods yet, in fact it probably would have been better for everyone if it was him who had been rushed to the hospital, rather than Kyle. Nothing would have changed.

Kenny looked at Stan. The other boy's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The blond boy could see something in Stan's face that he hadn't seen in a very long time. Stan was worried, Stan cared. Kenny pulled his hood up over his mouth and grinned into the cloth. He couldn't believe it, he was in the car with Stan going to see Kyle. Was this going to be the event that fixed everything, were things finally going to go back to the way they used to be? Maybe this was the best thing that could have possibly happened, as long as Kyle got out of this all right Kenny could see the light at the end of the tunnel. He didn't want Stan to see his smile.

"Stan, I didn't know you gave a shit." Kenny said, pulling his hood back down around his chin again, after recovering from unmovable grin.

"I care." Stan said, not looking at him.

"Oh, wow. I Never thought I would hear that coming from you ever again." Kenny folded his arms behind his head, looking smug. Stan wrinkled his nose

"I've always cared I just…" He exhaled, "I just needed some time to work some things out."

"And did you work them out in the last couple of minutes?" Kenny asked, raising a brow.

"No…I mean…sort of. I mean…can we just not talk about it?" Kenny rolled his eyes , watching Stan getting more and more frustrated. The blond boy smiled, this time not hiding it behind the orange cloth of his jacket. Something was churning inside his estranged friend's head, he could just…feel it, and some things were starting to fall into place inside his mind. He couldn't be certain but as he looked at Stan, completely flustered, cheeks blushed a deep shade of pink, he had an idea about just why Stan had bailed on everyone.


	6. Chapter 6 Everybody Loves Kyle

Ch 6

The blinds were drawn, but the thin milky white strips of plastic turned near transparent beneath the assault of the suns crashing rays. The beams of orange light spilled across the pale blue and white blankets and crawled all the way up to Kyle's face in a broken barrage. The shadows alternated with the light, and filtered across the pale plane of his cheek, illuminating every soft auburn freckle. His hair was a mess. The coils of thick red hair had settled around his jaw line and forehead and the back stuck up in all directions from being mashed against the pillow he lay on.

Kenny was used to hospitals. The blond boy was sitting calmly in the corner of the room playing with his PSP on silent. His hood was pulled up over his ears and the string was drawn. He tilted his gaming device from on side to the other, looking completely absorbed in whatever he was playing. Kenny McCormick had been to this place more times than he could count. Stan, on the other hand hated places like this. Every time he was inside the sterile walls he felt the oppressive hand of mortality bearing down on him. He hadn't sat down for more than a few minutes at a time, but had decided his time was best served pacing from one side of the tile floor to the other, and had been doing so for the past couple of hours.

Stan was still holding Kyle's ushanka tightly in his hand. The green fabric was soft and easily pliable, probably from all the many years of being the Jewish boys favorite cap. It didn't look as old as it was, however, unlike Kenny's orange hoodie. Stan had offered to give the other boy one of his older jackets, but was met with only refusal. The silence of the room was starting to get into Stan's brain. He didn't like when it got too quiet, it made his thoughts pound against his ears. He walked over to the door and opened in, looking outside as the nurses rushing past, not quite running, but shuffling quickly down the hall in both directions. The sounds that came to him were welcomed, clanging and voices, wheels rolling, and...Cartman. Stan would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hey! Watch where you are going!" Eric bellowed as a smaller, good-looking nurse bent down to pick up the papers she had dropped. Cartman just stood there, watching her gather her things as he brushed off the front of his shirt where she had collided, smoothing the button-down cloth against his skin.

"Oh, I am so sorry sir, so sorry." She said finally standing back up. She quickly moved around Cartman's larger form and sped off past him. Cartman turned his head and watched her go, no doubt watching the way her hips rocked from side to side as she moved. Once she disappeared around the corner he redirected his attention, scanning the hallway before him with hazel hews. He caught sight of Stan's head poking out from the door on the right and walked over to him.

"Well?" Cartman asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"He's still sleeping" Stan tightened his fingers against Kyle's hat and let out a long shaky breath, his eyes looking stormy. Cartman looked down at his watch, it was 4:35. He had stayed at school until it was let out, and then had come to the hospital directly afterwards. Incidents involving Kyle were always awkward for Cartman, and they mixed emotions were evident in his eyes even if the rest of his face was set in stone.

Stan stepped to the side and let Eric enter the room. Kenny looked up, nodded to Cartman and then tilted his head back to his game. Cartman stood there staring at the Jew. The corners of his mouth turned down in a hard to read from as he moved over to the bed in a few slow strides. The largest friend reached forward and wrapped fingers around each of the smallest's shoulders. Kenny had distracted himself away from his game, watching the linebacker put his hands on Kyle.

"Hey. Stupid Jew, wake up." Cartman shook Kyle a few times, tightening his grip on the other boy. Stan's mouth fell open in disbelief, and he snapped out a hand, grabbing the back of Eric's shirt, those stormy eyes turning angry.

"What the fuck, Eric, stop it! He's hurt!" Eric looked over his shoulder at Stan with a raised brow.

"Whatever, he's fine, and since when did you give a flying fuck?" He turned back to look at Kyle again and shook him a few more time. Stan just gawked, stammered and then finally was able to speak again.

"Oh yeah and like you care?" He challenged, hissing through his teeth at Cartman. Kenny glanced up at the two as they bickered, his blue eyes, far lighter than Stans, moving from one to the other. He hit save and turned off his PSP, shoving it back into his pocket.

Kyle could feel a steady pressure bearing down on the sides of his collarbone. He winced, gritting his teeth he tried to move, but found that his upper body was restricted, pinned firmly against a semi-soft surface at his back. He could hear something, far away at first, and then closer. Voices, he could hear voices, and he was fairly sure he recognized them.

"Just back the fuck off, Cartman!" Stan demanded, growing more and more heated. A flush of anger was beginning to smear across his cheeks. Kenny began to chuckle, laughing into the bottom of his hood. The blond wrapped his arms around himself, buckling over with the force of it. Both Stan and Eric turned their attention to him.

"What's so funny kyenny?" Eric snapped, finally lifting his hands away from Kyle's shoulders. He narrowed his eyes and cross his arms over his broad chest. Stan huffed. In a smooth motion Kenny removed his hood, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's you two, I haven't seen you guys go at each other in months, it's sorta nice." He admitted, shrugging. He watched as flush of anger on Stan's face suddenly shifted towards a softer pink, a look of embarrassment more than anything else. Cartman just smirked, looking off in the opposite direction.

Kyle's eyes finally fluttered open, the light from the window bright enough to flood them, making him squint. He groaned and rolled his head to face the door, the image before him looking fuzzy. Once he finally adjusted his vision he allowed himself to blink a few times to bring everything into focus. He thought, perhaps, that he was still asleep as he took in what he saw before him. It was Stan, standing beside his sometimes-friend, Eric.

"Am I…dreaming?" Kyle asked, his voice coming out hoarse. Everyone's attention turned to him. Stan lunged forward, grabbing hold of the side of the bed and leaned over him with wide expectant eyes. Kyle sank back further into his pillow as the taller boy came at him, slightly startled by the speed in which he was upon him. Was this really happening? Was Stan really right here in the room with him? He blinked a few more times and let his green eyes dart from Stan to Kenny, to Cartman and back again.

Kyle, you're awake!" Stan sucked in deep breath, exhaling in relief. He grinned, thrilled to finally see for himself that his Super Best Friend was going to be alright after all. He locked eyes with him, the deep blue of his own brightening under the gaze of Kyle's liquidy greens. Stan had never seen anyone with eyes quite so clear, or quite so deep as Broflovski's. Intelligence glowed from the emerald pools, something impossible not to see. Most people claimed Kyle to be the brightest kid in class, possibly in the entire grade, and that was something that had always made Stan proud. To have someone so athletic, and so brilliant consider him his best friend could also be a bit intimidating, Stan may have been a star basketball player but he certainly was no genius in the classroom.

"How are you feeling?" Kenny asked, snapping Stan out of his daze. The dark haired boy realized just how close he was leaning towards Kyle and immediately snapped himself back, standing straighter, swallowing hard.

"I feel….I feel like shit." Kyle tried to lift his hand to press it against his brow but found that it was heavier than usual. He looked down to see an I.V. tube running from the back of his hand and suddenly felt himself go queasy. Oh no...no no no…God, I hate needles." He groaned, the color rushing out of his cheeks.

"Well it's about time! Fucking, finally." Cartman barked. Stan wheeled on him shoving a finger into his face.

"You shut your face, fat ass! You've only been here for five God Damned Minutes." Eric reached up and grabbed Stan's wrist, forcing it down without much difficulty. The two stood there growling at each other. Kenny looked from them to Kyle, still grinning. Kyle bit his lower lip as he caught Kenny's eyes suddenly finding the view excessively funny. After a moment or two neither of them could hold it back, and burst out laughing.

Stan and Eric's faces dropped. They shifted their attention to their other two friends, brows knitted together. Cartman released his grib on Stan's wrist and the two folded their arms across their chests moodily.

"What so damn funny?" Cartman demanded.

"You guys!" Kyle said, as he reached over to the bedside table and picked up a cup of water that had been set there. "It's just…I dunno, it's funny."

"That's what I said!" Kenny added.

Kyle took a sip of water before laughing again. His whole face lit up, the color returning and his eyes sparkling with mesmerizing clarity. Stan's mouth fell open as he looked at him, his insides doing a back flip. Kyle was so…his smile…those eyes. Stan quickly snapped his jaw shut and spun around on his heels, facing away from everyone just as he felt a knot rise up in his throat.

"Oh come on Stan…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, really." Kyle cooed, reaching up the hand that was not wired up, touching his shoulder blade through his shirt. A jolt of what felt like electricity shot through Stan's body and he pulled out of reach.

Just then the door opened and the nurse walked in holding a clip board, it was the same nurse that had run into Cartman. She was small, couldn't have been taller than 5'4, with medium length brown hair that was pulled up into a twist at the back of her head. A few shocks had fallen free and hung in ringlets around her face. Her eyes were grey and made large by the cat eye rims of her glasses that tilted down the bridge of a very straight nose. She was pretty, but plane looking, perhaps because of her business like attire, pale blue scrubs and a blood pressure meter hanging around her neck.

She smiled at them and pressed the top of her pen cap before setting it to the paper on her board. The smile lasted until she saw Cartman, her whole face drooping a bit. She must have been remembering the embarrassing event earlier, although Eric had that effect on a lot of people. She cleared her throat and then looked to Kyle, "Hello there Kyle, it's good to see that you're finally awake.

"That's what I said." Eric growled, grumpily.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she rounded his bed to check the I.V.

Kyle watched her but looked away pointedly as her fingers made their way to the needle in his hand. He began to look a little pale again.

"Oh…I've felt better, but I'm okay…um...what exactly happened?" he asked, looking to the faces of each person in the room.

"Your friends didn't fill you in?"

"Um..no." Kyle winced as the needle was slid cleanly from his hand, a gauze pad pressed over the wound.

"Okay now bend your arm." The nurse said. He did so and let out a long breath, shoulders dropping in relief. "Well there was a fire at the school, Kyle, Something in the chemistry room caught fire…it's still being looked into as to what exactly started it. You got some pretty severe smoke inhalation damage. It probably wouldn't have been such an issue if you didn't have asthmatic symptoms, but anyways your friend Stan here, saved your life I think." She smiled at Stan, but he was still facing away, his body tensing as she told the story. "He grabbed the fire extinguisher and put out the fire, than he and this young man here, Kenny, helped carry you out of danger. You're lucky to be alive, and lucky to have such good friends."

With that said she took Kyle's pulse and then listened to his breathing with a stethoscope. "Well you seem to be doing much better but I would like to keep you over-night just in case there is more damage.

"Where…where are my parents?" Kyle asked, suddenly feeling his heart drop into his stomach. "They were hear earlier, they already know we will be keeping you."

"We convinced them to let us stay after the doctor assured them you were going to be okay." Kenny offered, raising his index finger. Kyle nodded at this, glad his friends had taken care of that, he hated seeing his mom worry. He looked at Stan's back, his entire form softening as Stan's was growing more ridged.

"Stan…saved my life?" his voice came out as almost a whisper, a tightness rising up in his throat. Could it possibly be true? The nurse had Kyle lower his arm, and then placed a bandage over the cotton ball.

Had Stan really been the one to pull him out of the fire? Kyle closed his eyes tightly as he tried to remember the events that led him to where he was now, laid up in the hospital. He remembered smoke, sharp thick smoke all around, but after that his mind just felt fuzzy. When he opened his eyes they were moist, tears welling up along the lower lid.

"Thank you, Stan." Kyle said softly, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. Stan turned his head a bit, looking over his shoulder at the boy laying in the bed. Kyle looked so fragile, so meek. Had he always had soft skin, had his eyes always been that lovely? He could see tears welling up in them, turning them glossy. The back of Stan's neck began to burn, the heat pooling to the front of his chest and up into his face.

"I…I.." Stan tried to speak, "I…have to go." And with that Stan rushed to the door, pulling it open in one quick motion, and disappeared out into the hall. Before anyone knew what had happened Stan was gone, leaving Kyle staring after him with desperation written all over his face. The tears that had been building finally spilled over and began to run down freckled cheeks.

"Oh dear…" The nurse lifted curled fingers to her lips. She looked to the other two boys who stood there, looking dumbfounded, even Cartman seemed completely caught off guard. Kenny was only shocked for a few seconds before reached down to take Kyle's hand, squeezing it. Kyle closed his eyes again, trying to fight back the tears but they just kept coming.

Cartman stared at the door as it pulled itself shut and then was reopened by the nurse as she hurried out. "Fucking…..douche bag." He said, in what sounded like disbelief. "Kyle, your best friend sucks." He said, facing the Jew again. He felt a tickle of pleasure crawl up his spine as he watched the tears stream down his face. Kyle looked like a girl when he cried. Suddenly the pleasure turned to frustration. He had never been able to make Kyle cry, even though he had attempted to do so on many occasions, and then without even trying Stan had brought forth a river, what the fuck? He wanted to be the one that forced those green eyes to spout with misery. He clenched his fists down to his sides, lost in thought for a moment before he noticed Kenny watching him.

"what?" Cartman snapped. Kenny shrugged, and looked away, still holding onto Kyle's hand. Kenny wasn't too bad at reading people, but Cartman was a particular challenge, perhaps because the kid was a sociopath, incapable of normal human functioning. He decided to just focus on Kyle, he had never seen him like this before, of course no one would be able to have this affect but Stan. Mash was for sure easier to get, and the blond was fairly certain he had cracked the code. He hadn't just been watching Cartman, he had been watching the basketball star, watching how he looked at Kyle. Such complicated deep emotions there and friendly concern would not have been his first word choice. There was something else, something…could it really be what he thought it was?

Stan splashed water on his face, breathing heavily as he looked into the mirror. The harsh fluorescent lights glared against his skin, making the heavy bags under his eyes apparent. He reached up and tugged at his face, pulling his cheeks down and looking into his own eyes.

"What is wrong with me?" he reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small flash. He shook it, only about a swallow left. He had taken to carrying the flash around with him during school, much easier to conceal than the whole bottle. He recalled Kyle smashing the last one, luckily after he had drank nearly all of it.

He took a swig, draining the last of the gin. It burned all the way down his throat and settled like a warm coal in his stomach. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, putting the flask back into his pocket. He didn't feel immediately better and he bared his teeth at his own reflection. _Kyle._ Stan groaned and put a hand to his head as the name popped up into the front of his brain. The name was followed by an image. Kyle, lying unconscious in the hospital bed, his head tilted to the side exposing a long slender neck, and a collar bone that was mostly exposed to reveal an expanse of perfectly pale flesh, freckles peppering the skin that neared his shoulders like hoof prints in freshly fallen snow.

"FUCK!" Stan reached up and grabbed the rim of his hat on either side and yanked it down over his ears, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples.

He could see the collar of his medical down slipping down off that freckled shoulder, exposing the delicate curve and the rest of those auburn freckles. He could reach forward, if he wanted, trace the line of his throat and pull the cloth back up over his shoulder…or he could lean down and kiss each freckle.

".FUCK!" Stan groaned reclining back against the wall beside the sink. He was shaking slightly, all over, his stomach fluttering. He shook his head, his hands still clasped against his skull. No, this couldn't really be happening. Wasn't this why he had decided to stay away from Kyle to begin with? Wasn't being far away and miserable better than being close and feeling like…feeling like what… He wasn't exactly sure what 'like this' really meant. All he knew was that when he looked at Kyle he felt something, something he couldn't explain, something that reached down and wrapped it's fingers around his heart and squeezed and squeezed until he couldn't take it anymore.

Finally he felt the alcohol begin to squelch the tearing in his chest. He took another few deep breaths and turned towards the door. He wanted to forget. He was sure he still had another bottle of gin hidden in his jeans drawer.


	7. Chapter 7 Chaos

A/N: So I don't really think the word 'Sepial' exists, but it should. Here I use it to mean sepia toned, so deal. Lol. Also, abuse is serious. Mkay. I'm seriously.

I want to thank all of you who have been reading and enjoying this story, and a special thanks to those who comment. Your comments honestly keep me going. If you are liking what's being done please take the time to say so, or even better white out a review. This story is pretty raw, I get so excited that I go ahead and post each chapter before I even let my Betta look at it. So far he's a few chapters behind me on editing so everything you are reading is a first draft. If anything becomes too distracting in this 'first draft' form please say so and I will reel myself in and let my beta do his job.

I can't believe I'm already on Ch 9 of this story! I'ts not easy writing a character with Multiple Personalities so please let me know if things get confusing.

Ch 9

The night was bitterly cold. The warmth of the sun had long since died and the moon had risen to take it's place, a sepial copycat. Mysterion didn't mind, he found the cold and the soft light of the moon and stars soothing. It did, however, make the rising bruise on his face sting. He reached up and touched it through his mask, wincing as he did so. His drunken son-of-a-bitch father and thrown a full can of beer at him. He fucking hated that ass hole. It wasn't the first time such brutal contact had been made, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

It was a regular occurrence, going to school covered in band-aids and ace wrap. His friends were quick to poke fun at him for looking like a train wreck, but no-one ever really wanted to get down to the core of it. It was fine by him, he didn't really want to get into it either, it wasn't like they would understand what it was like. Everyone had their problems. No one wanted to ask the hard questions…and maybe that was for the best. He didn't need anyone. He was special. He could ignore the person he was during the day as soon as he put on the costume and became who he was right now, Mysterion, The Guardian Angel of all those who suffer, all those in pain.

Dropping his hand from his face he clenched it into a fist at his side. He stood up and walked along the edge of the roof, the shingles shifting slightly underfoot. As he looked over the edge he could see a stream of light coming from the window below. He could hear her crying and the pain in his cheek meant nothing anymore.

Mysterion slipped down from the roof, dangling from the gutter before swinging himself easily onto the window sill. He crouched low as he anchored himself. Karen was kneeling at the foot of the bed, her face shoved so deep into her pillow that he could barely hear her sobs. That mother fucker had made her cry again.

The room was small, sparsely decorated, and altogether dreary looking. In the center, pressed against the left hand wall, was a mattress covered in a thin pink sheet. The mattress itself looked dingy. On the far wall was a coffee table set up as a desk complete with a shadeless lamp. To the left of the window was a small toy chest, a few dolls set up on top of it. One he recognized as the doll that Karen usually carried around in her backpack, Lisa, he thought she called her. Aside from a few posters hung on the all there wasn't much to define the room at all.

"Karen…" Mysterion made sure to drop his usual voice down a few octaves, it wasn't difficult, he already felt like growling. He couldn't stand seeing her cry. The small girl lifted her head up out of her pillow, perking up at the sound of his voice, tear filled eyes turning to meet his. Kenny felt his heart sink, rage boiling up in his chest.

"Is that you, Guardian Angel?" Karen squeaked, sniffling.

"Oh, Karen…" he finally said, peeling his eyes away from her bruised eye. He couldn't believe he had let him put a mark on her. He had thought he got there in time to make sure she was safe, but it looked like he had been a little too late. He felt completely useless without this costume, a guy would couldn't even protect his own sister. "I should have stopped him from hurting you…"

Karen rubbed the back of her hand against her nose, trying to pull herself together as she quickly made her way to the window. She collided with his chest, making a dull thump, and he wrapped his arms around her, comfortingly. She felt so small. How could a father do this to his daughter?

"My big brother was there, he punched papa in the face." She said, burying her face against his chest. She was shaking all over, must still be so scared. He reached over and grabbed Lisa, pressing the doll into her arms.

"Karen…did he hurt you anywhere else?" he asked holding her away from himself at arm's length, reaching up one hand to touch just below her swollen eye. The little girl clutched the doll close, looking down as her face was examined.

"N-no…big brother made sure he left me alone. Oh Mysterion, I was so scared!" she sobbed, and the Angel took her back into his arms, clutching her tightly. He gritted his teeth as she wept. That fucking ass hole, something had to be done, this couldn't continue any longer. He refused to have another finger be laid on his little sister…on Karen Mcormick.

"Don't worry…I'm here now…"

"You always come when I'm upset." She pointed out. Mysterion gave a sad smile.

"And I always will."

Kenny…Mysterion held her for a long time, rocking her gently back and forth. He had never really felt love towards anyone but this little girl, his sister. It was a bond that he would swear to for as long as he lived, he was sure. After a while she finally fell into an uneasy sleep. He picked her up gently, cradling her in his arms and carried her over to the Mattress lying on the floor and set her down on top of it.

He pulled the pink blanket over top of her and leaned down to kiss her forehead, smoothing her blond hair back from her dirty face. He made a mental note to steal some soap from the grocery store the next day as he watched her sleep. For now he would watch over her, he would stand guard until morning's light crept over the trees. He was going to make sure that no one disturbed her while she slumbered.

He lifted himself back up onto the window sill and balanced there for a long while looking at the crisp moon. He was going to have to do something about that abusive son of a bitch, something drastic. With is eyes set straight ahead and his fingers clenched against the window a truth rose up inside of him, an understanding of what must be done. He had to kill him. He had to kill him for Karen. He dropped down to his seat, letting his legs dangle over the edge. It looked like he wouldn't be visiting Marjorine tonight.

It was a 50/50 shot she would have been there in place of Butter's anyways.

Kenny found is extremely awkward, waiting outside Butter's window for Marjorine to appear. Of course, it was also extremely awkward that he was even waiting at all. He never thought he would be doing something so strange, something so taboo. Butters was a looser, Butters was a Melvin, Butters was a complete and total dork. Yet he found himself drawn to Marjorine like a mouth to a flame, she was…was so different, that was for sure.

At first he had been completely dumbfounded by her existence, Butters had to be faking, using some excuse to dress up in women's clothing and trot around his room like freak he was, but after talking to her, really talking, he knew that this was no game. Suddenly he found himself searching for her every single night, hoping that she would appear at the window with her soft eyes gazing out into the night waiting for him.

It had begun to be pretty obvious that the only time Marjorine would appear was when Butters was feeling his most vulnerable, when he felt all alone in the world. This was a pretty common occurrence. Kenny understood, he knew what it was like to be from an abusive household. The abuse that Butters suffered was different than the kind he and Karen dealt with, he was fairly certain that Butter's parents had never tried to physically injure him but the psychological attacks were just as damaging. It was hard to see Butters sitting on the floor, sobbing for hours before Marjorine would show herself, it was clear that such emotional turmoil was the trigger that caused her to come out. It was hard to see that, but even harder to realize that excitement would boil inside of him whenever he did, knowing what would come after.

God, if any of his friends knew, if anyone ever knew…what they would think of him. He wasn't gay, he wasn't into Butter's…but when that switch happened, when his eyes would go soft and his body would lilt into that perfect way she carried herself, so supple and delicate. It was different, wasn't it? Going even further what would his friends think of him if they knew who he was? He was Mysterion, the strange sometimes hero that would appear on the news every so often for stopping some petty crime or seen leaping across rooftops.

He didn't like to think of it like that, it made him feel odd, made him feel detached.

Butters caught himself nodding off and shook his head. Fiddle sticks, he wasn't going to be able to keep himself awake much longer. He had been waiting up all night to see Mysterion, window propped open and everything. It was almost 4:00 am and still his dark cloaked friend hadn't shown up. He was beginning to think he wasn't going to show up tonight at all.

He frowned and rolled over onto his stomach, crawling to the end of the bed. He lay across the mattress with his knees bent, wiggling his feet in the air behind him. He leaned his chin on his folded arms and continued to watch the window. Earlier he had decided to make Mysterion a card. He had gotten some red construction paper, glue and glitter and had spent the better part of an hour making a big 'welcome Mysterion' poster which he had propped up against his desk so that the hero would see it upon entry.

Butter's felt himself nodding off again, but the call of slumber was far too great to resist. His lids felt a thousand pounds. The struggle to keep them raised was outmatched by the desire to close them. As Butter's faded to the world around him, someone else took his place. Though his eyes had closed slowly, they snapped open again with little hesitation, and narrowed into angry slits.

"_Finally, I am free again…" _Lifting himself up and out of bed, this other person moved broodily towards the closet, sliding the door aside. From under a few mounds of clothing an outfit was removed and brought into the light of the room. Turning towards the mirror a helmet was raised up over his head and then was smoothly slid down over his ears. It was made of dull sheet metal, hammered to fit perfectly against the sides of his cheeks, and painted with a red circle front and center. Once it was secure a deep chuckle rose up in his throat.

Mysterion didn't look much different than Butters, although how different could people look from each other when they shared a body? Supposedly that little tart, Marjorine, surely stretched the limit in which an alter could look so separate from the host form. Chaos did not worry himself with such things; however, to himself he looked very different. He saw himself with muscles, great bulky things that built him up and differentiated him from the weak pathetic body. A broad chest, and sleek, cut abdomen.

"If Mysterion is too good to come to us….then we will go to him." Professor Chaos spun himself around, intending to head to the window, however stopped after only a few steps. He raised a hand to his helmet and slid it up under the metal, pressing his fingers to his brow. "oOoh…dizzy…maybe…it might be best to sleep first…and then find Mysterion!" Chaos reached up and removed his helmet again, stumbling over to the bed. "Yes…tomorrow…If Mysterion doesn't want to be friends….well…then he will be my enemy!"

Inside Chaos's mind Marjorine whimpered. She could not bare to think that anyone would hurt her Mysterion…She had to find a way to warn him, she must find a way to keep Professor Chaos from harming him, but how? What could a little thing like her do to help an illustrious hero? She had to think of something, come up with a plan while the Professor slept.

A/N: Well there it is. Butters, Marjorine, and now Professor Chaos! How am I doing with the characters, are they believable? I ask that of all the characters, not just the Butters trio.


	8. Chapter 8 Kenny Gets a Boner

A/N: I sort of got the chapter numbers confused in my last Authors Note. Oh well, not a big deal, right haha. Well I sure hope you enjoy this steamy chapter! As always I still ask that you comment or review the chapter so that I know to keep writing! I have had a personal request to have a chapter featuring Tweak. I wanted to let it be known that I am writing one up and if I feel it fits into the story I will be sure to add it.

"Stan, you've barely touched your food." Wendy said, slight annoyance apparent in her voice. She reached across the table and pushed his tray closer to him. Stan snapped out of his daze and looked down at his grilled cheese sandwich.

"Oh…sorry." He said softly, picking up on triangle square and taking a bite. He chewed slowly, eyeing the side of mashed potatoes. He really wasn't that hungry, but he didn't want to make Wendy any more worried about him than she already was. He wanted to just get though lunch so that, as promised, she would leave him the hell alone.

Wendy wasn't easily fooled, sitting opposite him at the round table she could see the deep lines of worry etched into his tense brow, the way his brows dropped and bags had formed beneath his eyes. Not to mention just how pale he looked recently. He was hardly eating and seemed distracted, distant. She wasn't sure how to reach him, or what she could do for him if she actually was able to.

"So what are you going to do after school today? Are you going to go visit Kyle in the hospital? I heard they kept him over night." Wendy curled a long lock of noir hair around her finger, spooning a mouthful of peas into her mouth with her other hand. Stan took another bite of his sandwich, he didn't really want to answer that question.

"Um. No, I have Basketball practice." He said once he had swallowed. He didn't want to think about Kyle, and certainly didn't want to talk about him. Wendy sighed and put down her fork looking at Stan, hard.

"It was pretty amazing what you did." She tried to keep her voice light and airy.

"...that's what people keep telling me."

"You're like a hero, you're as famous as that Mysterion guy. Did you know it was even on the news?"

"…no, I didn't see that."

"yeah, it's pretty amazing. Just think about it, the whole town knows how brave you are now!"

"…awesome."

Wendy was getting more and more frustrated with every passing moment. She didn't want to fight with Stan but it seemed like the only way to get more than one sentence out of him was to verbally assault him. She clenched her fist beside her tray and took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She pulled out her most winning smile and tried again.

"Did you hear that Craig is going to be having a party this weekend?"

"…I've heard about it."

"It's supposed to be really awesome, apparently everyone is going to be there. You're going to be going, right?" Wendy pressed, leaning forward a bit. Stan looked up from his plate of food as he chewed, blinking at her.

"Wendy…I'm not really that interested in going."

"But the whole Basketball team is going to be there."

"Yeah, the whole basketball team besides me."

"But that's social injustice, Stan, you're the star player. You've got to make an appearance at parties like these." She insisted. "Or they are going to think you're a snob and if they think you're a snob then they aren't going to like you, and if they don't like you then they won't play well with you on the court!"

Stan inhaled heavily. She was sort of right. Damn it, she was really right. If the whole team had any more of a reason to think he was a stuck up little brat that would probably push them somewhere into the vicinity of hating him. Couch was always insisting that he come to the teams little bonding parties at the shakies pizza, but he was usually able to avoid them with claims of homework or tests to study for. Considering he was the star player, Couch Evans didn't want to lose him due to bad grades.

"Wendy…"

"Yes, Stan?"

"Has anyone every told you that your intelligence is infuriating?" Stan looked at her, and couldn't help but smile. Her eyes were such a pale shade of blue gray that they looked almost violet. She really was a very pretty girl, quite possibly one of the prettiest girls in the grade, even though she didn't have the breast size that Bebe had, or the exotic angular features or red, she had a look of natural togetherness that many other lacked. It was what had attracted him to her in the first place; that and the fact that she really was just shockingly smart.

"Oh, Stan…"Wendy giggled, feeling her cheeks flush pink. She could hardly believe that she had gotten a genuine smile out of him. It made her heart flutter.

"Why did you go out with me?" Stan asked, leaning on his hand as he picked at his potatoes. Wendy blinked, a bit caught off guard.

"What do you mean, Stan?"

"I mean…why did you go out with me? You could have had any guy you wanted and yet you picked an idiot like me?"

"Oooh…" Wendy placed a hand to her cheek and gave an understated smile. What an off the wall topic changer. "Well Stan, you've always been a real charmer. All through school you've been a desirable guy. I mean, when we first started dating you were a rising basketball star, extremely handsome, sensitive, caring…you were everything I could have ever hoped to have in a boyfriend. Actually, I was surprised you wanted to be with me."

Stan listened, silently, wincing at the description she gave of him. He didn't feel like much of any of those things anymore, besides still a kick ass basketball player.

"Did you ever notice anything…strange, about me?" he asked, feeling his stomach tighten. He quickly took a few more bites of his sandwich, staring pointedly down at the table.

"Did I notice anything strange? Like what, what exactly do you mean by strange? I mean you used to vomit whenever you got too excited, that's a little strange." Wendy scratched the side of her chin with her index finger as she looked off in thought.

"No I mean sexually." Stan cringed. He couldn't believe he had just gone ahead and said that out loud. He felt the back of his neck grow hot.

"Oh. Oh…um…" Wendy suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable, and rightly so. The two of them hadn't talked in so long and now here they were, about to discuss a sex life that had been dead for such an extended length of time.

Being with each other had always been safe, familiar. Stan knew all the places that could make Wendy's knees go weak. He knew that if he slid his fingers along the length of her spine that she would coo and melt against him like butter over warm bread. He knew that if he tugged on her earlobe gently with his teeth that she would gasp. Wendy was no stranger to all of Stan's little quirks, either. Wendy knew that Stan's neck was extremely sensitive, and that he used to love how she would kiss along his jawline.

The two past lovers sat in silence for several long minutes, chewing there food without looking at each other. Neither one wanted to admit the sudden flood of images and memories that came with Stan's question.

"Um no…I don't think there was every anything out of the ordinary. I mean, not that it was ordinary. I uh…you know what I mean. It was great, and stuff." Wendy's cheeks went from being flushed to being down right hot, under the sudden embarrassment.

"Yea, uh. I know what you mean Wendy. I thought it was great too." Stan felt absolutely retarded. He couldn't remember a time where he had felt more awkward. Wendy couldn't help but wonder if Stan was regretting that they broke up, while on the other hand Stan was wondering if Wendy had ever suspected a discrepancy in his sexuality.

Stan squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them Wendy was staring at him with those violet eyes and she was smiling softly. Beyond just that Stan found himself smiling back. He was rather enjoying her company, in fact.

The bell rang and both students looked up at the clock. Lunch was over. The two of them picked up their trays and headed to the trash can.

"Stan…do you think maybe we could have lunch together again sometime?" Wendy asked, biting her lower lip. Stan stacked his tray on top of hers and thought for a moment. It really hadn't been so bad, talking with her, had it? Wasn't it nice to actually spend time with a person again? Plus, she was pretty wasn't she? Pretty and any normal guy would probably die to spend some quality time with her…and he was a normal guy, right?

"Um…Sure, Wendy." Stan held the back of his neck nervously, feeling the heat of embarrassment radiating through his fingers. Wendy was so pretty…but was he attracted to her…did he want her? He could tell himself that he did, couldn't he? Maybe if he told himself enough then it would become true.

"Well will you look at that shit? That's just down right disgusting." Cartman stabbed his fork into the top of Clyde's chicken as he spoke, watching Stan and Wendy walking together towards the trash can. Clyde scowled at Eric, pulling his tray away from the larger boy. Kenny swiveled in his seat a bit and glanced over his shoulder.

"Now what the fuck is that about? So he's shows up to see Kyle in the hospital after not being around for fuck know's how long, and then ditches us again…and this time for that flat chested little slut?" Clyde guffawed, finding the description rather amusing. "I mean what's the deal, too cool to hang out with us but as soon as some ho spreads her legs he's back in the saddle like some fucking cowboy."

Kenny let his eyes follow the pair until they disappeared around the corner. It was pretty odd to see Stan hanging out with Wendy of all people. What the hell was going on with that kid? Kenny shrugged and turned back around.

"I just hope Kyle never sees this." Kenny said quietly before finishing off the last of his apple and tossing he core down onto his tray.

"What was that, Kenny?" Cartman asked as he stood up, glancing back at the blond."

"Nothing." Kenny said, standing up as well. The two left Clyde still sitting at the table and took their trays to the trash. Together the boys walked down the hall towards their lockers, which were conveniently placed right beside each other and began to gather their books for the next class.

Kenny looked at himself in the small dirty mirror on the inside of his locker door and reached up a hand to poke the spongy bruise on his right cheek. The band aid he had smacked across it covered the worst of it, but the purple had spread to a wider ring and could be seen around the edges. He sighed and slammed the locker shut, leaning his shoulder against it as he watched Cartman prune himself in his own mirror. He felt nearly asleep on his feet, from having stayed up all night watching over Karen.

Cartman looked at Kenny's reflection in the mirror and noticed for the first time that day that his skinny little friend looked like hell.

"Damn, Kenny…you look like absolute shit." He said, chuckling softly as he smoothed his own brown hair along his brow.

"Fuck you, Eric." Kenny said easily, rolling away from him on the lockers so that his back was pressed to the cool metal. He looked up at the fluorescent lights and day dreamed about napping in the next class. He was yanked out of his skylarking as he saw Butter's heading towards him from across the hall.

Butters, who was shorter than Kenny by several noticeable inches, was looking quite distressed. Large blue eyes looked up at the taller boy with a depth that Kenny immediately knew that he may have been looking at Butter's body, but it wasn't Butter's who spoke the next words.

"Kenny…Kenny I must speak with you, it's urgent!" Kenny felt his stomach drop. Could it be? Marjorine, here, at school? He felt his face go hot and he immediately turned wide panicked eyes to Cartman.

"Bug off you little butt wipe." Eric barked, shutting his locker with a thud. He elbowed Kenny in his arm as he gave a deep guttural laugh, "fuckin' little Melvin…come on Kenny lets go." Kenny swallowed hard.

"You go ahead, Eric…I'll catch up to you." Cartman rolled his eyes and threw up a hand in dismissal as he walked off towards class. Once he was out of ear shot Kenny turned his attention back to Marjorine, confusion written all over his face. Why was Marjorine here and why was she coming to him in the middle of school.

"What's up, Butters?" Kenny asked, swallowing hard once again. Marjorine looked hurt she pursed her lower lip and looked down at Kenny's shoes.

"You know that I'm not Butters, Mysterion…" she cooed, reaching up a hand and tugging at the sleeve of Kenny's orange hoodie. Kenny's eyes, if possible, went wider. His stomach sank and everything around him seemed to go black. How could it be? How could Marjorine know that he was Mysterion.

"How…how did you.." Marjorine shook her head and tugged a little harder on his sleeve.

"Oh, Kenny…Your costume is a face mask and a cape…of course I knew it was you…" her voice was like a purr, lilting and bell like.

"Right, well." Kenny flattened himself against the lockers. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was staring at him with Butters body practically crushed against him. Marjornine was so close that their shoes were parallel with each other, she standing between Kenny's parted legs. Her other hand came up and it was as if he were watching it in slow motion. She placed it directly on his chest and he felt all the color leave his body.

He could feel the heat of her hand through his shirt and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Mysterion…" She caught his light blue hews with her own and the two stared into each-others eyes, "Mysterion, you are in great danger…Someone wants to destroy you." She said, desperation making her voice flutter. Kenny found himself grinning in spite himself, he just couldn't help himself…even without all the wig or the make-up, Marjorine just wrapped herself around his insides.

"Hey…" Kenny's voice dropped an octave as he reached up a hand to touch a lock of short blond hair, "Do you maybe want to tell me all about it…somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?" Marjorine blinked a few times and then looked around, suddenly realizing that perhaps in the middle of the hall wasn't the best place. "Oh...yes, um...that might be best."

Ignoring the awkward looks of the other students heading to their classes, Kenny took Marjorine by the hand and lead her down the hallway towards the restrooms. When they reached them Kenny pressed his hand into the door but felt a tug on his arm.

"I-I can't go in there!" Marjorine gasped. Kenny couldn't stop himself from laughing. He turned himself around and lifted his free hand to cup her chin.

"It will be fine. Trust me." And not needing any other coaxing she allowed herself to be led into the restroom. It was empty, just as Kenny suspected it would be. Everyone was in class and it was unlikely they would be disturbed for at least 30 minutes.

"You're right, Kenny…it's much more private in here." Marjorine said as she was lead into the large stall at the back. Kenny locked the latch and then turned to face her. The way Marjorine had her hand lifted to her cheek made the hem of her shirt rise up to expose a line of soft pale flesh at her hip. His eyes immediately found it and he felt his insides squirm.

"Kenny…as I was saying before, there is someone who want's to destroy you, they want to hurt you! I knew that I had to warm you as soon as I could." She continued to talk, but the taller boy was past listening. He closed the distance between then and reached out his fingers, brushing them against the exposed flesh along her stomach, Butters stomach, Marjorines stomach. He felt her shiver under the assault of his hand.

"K-Kenny…" her lips parted in a startled gasp as she was slowly guided back against the far wall, the hand that had so tenderly touched her beginning to travel northward up along the flat stretch of torso and chest hidden under her shirt. hunger burned in his blue eyes.

"Marjorine…how about we worry about that later…" he said softly, leaning down to gush his warm breath against her neck, making her squirm in his grasp. Kenny had always been a bold sexual aggressor, and the meekness of little Marjorine just made her that much more appealing.

He liked that way she felt small in his grasp, she liked the way her voice was soft, she liked the way he could feel the her hardening member pressing against his hip as he leaned against her. Oh…Kenny pulled back a bit, feeling his whole body go a bit weak. He looked down between their bodies, the swelling in Marjorine's jeans an obvious event. He let his eyes scan up her form to her blue eyes, taking all of her in.

Marjorine had a boy's body, that was undeniable. With his hand pressed up into her shirt he could spread his fingers across a solid, flat chest. A guys chest. He furrowed his brow a bit.

"What's wrong, Mysterion?" Marjorine's asked, her sweet voice pulling him out of his thoughts. How could he tell her that his concerns were coming from having never been intimate with another guy before. How could he tell her that he saw her body as male when he knew that she didn't see herself that way at all.

Without warning fingers began to work at the zipper of his jacket. He remained where he was as nimble hands crept up and tugged the jacket free from his shoulders. Still very much dazed, feeling like he was in some sort of strange dream he helped in shaking the fabric down off his arms, letting his orange companion be cast to the tile floor. Then he felt those fingers gripping into his shirt, pulling in forward so that once again his body collided with her's.

She felt so warm, her hands on his chest felt right and without even thinking about it he found himself pressing his own hardness up against hers, the friction of fabric sending shockwaves through him. He wanted to devour her, to throw caution aside and ravage her.

"Fuck…" was the only word he could force from his lips, a half moan wrapped in a growl of pleasure.

This was insane, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around the thin waste and lifted Marjorine up off of her feet, pressing her hard against the wall, cradling her hips and lower back in his grasp he looked up at her, now positioned a foot or so higher than he was. To his surprise her legs soon came to wrap around him, helping to anchor her as she leaned down, clasping both of her hands on either side of Kenny's face. She looked into his eyes and he stared back.

Their lips crushed together, the hunger from both sides rising up and spilling over into one another. Kenny was surprised with how much ferocity Marjorine had behind her kiss, her lips hungrily coaxing his, small kisses intermitted with longer more passionate ones. After a moment or so her hands slid from the sides of his face down the length of his neck, those soft lips parting.

Kenny took the invitation without hesitation, flicking his tongue along her bottom lip and then letting it press deeper into her mouth, exploring inside like an eager traveler. The electricity was like nothing He had ever felt before. Something incredible had just happened.


	9. Chapter 9 Seeing Stars

A/N: sorry it took so long everyone, I was gone last week for spring break. I am back now! If I get 3 new comments I will post another new chapter 3 thank you for your continued support!

Every muscle in Stan's body burned as he sprinted across the gymnasium floor at full speed. He braced himself and jetted out his foot, the bottoms of his sneakers squeaking as they halted his progression. He pivoted as he heard the whistle blow, crouched down into a starting position and bolted forward in the opposite direction, going off like a bullet. Already on his second turn he was half a lap ahead of everyone else on the team.

When Stan was running, or maneuvering around the court, his mind felt clearer. Nothing existed but him, the basketball, and the net. Anyone who popped up along the way was just a momentary distraction, someone to swivel around and pass without much thought. It was a made that felt natural and smooth to him, and made practice his favorite time of the day. Even with every muscle screaming at him, and sweat glossing every inch of his form he felt far calming on the court than anywhere else.

He was the fastest boy, by far, on the Basketball team. He used to be on the track team, same as Kyle, but his height and his ability to sink a shot from near half court had the team begging for him to lend his talents. At the time it had been really tough leaving Kyle behind, but these days it seemed more like a relief.

The whistle blew again and Stan was already on his way back to the other side of the court. Suicides, this exercise was called, in Stan's opinion one of the most brutal, yet he loved the distraction it provided. There was nothing but the sound of coaches whistle echoing through his head, drowning out any stray thoughts…like those of Kyle.

There was just the stretch of foe wood and blue lines ahead of him. There was sound of his shoes squeaking as he stretched out his gate and pushed further and harder with every stride. The sweat beading along his brow slid down his temples. He was so focused so impenetrable… then there, in his minds eyes was a face, a smiling laughing face. Green eyes. Freckled skin. Red hair…

Stan saw the floor rising up to meet him, and felt the sting of it before he even realized he had lost his footing. He crashed down to and slid a foot or so. The rest of his team rushed passed him as he rolled himself over onto his seat and looked down at the angry red scrapes that ran down his knees.

"Marsh!" The couch yelled, from the sidelines. Stan groaned and pushed himself back up to his feet. He hadn't meant to let his mind wander like that. It seemed harder and harder to control his thoughts these days, now it was getting in the way of practice too? "what the hell was that, Marsh? It's not like you to lose focus."

"Sorry coach…I'm just not really myself today I guess." Stan said, standing out of the way of his teammates as they continued the drill. Stan watched them run, many of them shooting him dirty looks. He had never really stopped and watched them, he was usually too caught up in his own shit to worry about it. Wow, they really did hate him, or at least greatly dislike him. Wendy was right after all.

"Well, Stan maybe you should go ahead and hit the showers early." The couch thumbed in the direction of the locker room. Stan nodded slowly and walked over to the bench, grabbing his towel. He smeared it across his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat. He heard the coach call for the rest of the team to take a break and he hurried towards the locker room to avoid any more of their hateful glares.

He saw one, a boy slightly taller than he with thick wavy black hair that sat in a mass atop his head lean over and whisper something into the ear of a similarly built teammate, eyes honed onto Stan with that same judgmental glare.

He tossed the towel over his head and scrubbed at his dark noirette hair. He didn't want to think about what the other guys thought of him. He didn't care, right? They were all shitty anyways. Still, a frown had formed on his lips and he did his best to ignore the aching feeling in his chest.

He descended the ramp down into the basement hall, where the lockers lined the wall and the concrete floor had been covered with a thick spongy net like material, made to be absorbent. As he rounded the corner he could hear the sound of water running in the back. It was strange because he knew the rest of the basketball team was still finishing up coaches drills.

As he pulled the towel down from over his face, walking towards the showers he was met with the last thing he expected to see. Standing in the second shower to the right, his back turned to him, stood a small lean figure. Hands were pressed deep into thick coils of perfectly dark auburn locks, and the way he stretched up his elbows caused the sleek muscles in a toned back to tighten, exposing just how chiseled to perfection he really was.

"Kyle?" Stan said, barely able to push out the word, choking on it. He stood there, staring at the Jewish boy with his mouth hung slightly open. It wasn't like he had never seen Kyle naked before. They had been best friends since they were little kids, but since their 'break up' it seemed almost forbidden to see the estranged ginger in such a state of undress, and dripping with water, none the less.

The stall the naked boy stood in barely covered anything at all. The wall rose up about as high as his lower back, with a ledge on top to place assorted items such as soaps or shampoos. Along Kyle's was a blue bottle, probably shampoo, Stan knew he used a certain kind for his thick hair, probably a girly type. Then a clear bottle filled with a foaming body wash. If the situation would have been different, Stan could have seen himself giggling at Kyle's choice of items. However the situation wasn't different, it was just spell binding. Here he was, standing thunderstruck, watching Kyle—who was supposed to be in the hospital, wasn't he-showering.

Kyle's hands moved from his hair, down the lengths of his sides. Fingertips fluttered along the smooth lines of his form as the water tumbled down over him in a crystal fall. He leaned his head back, his jaws lifting to expose a long faultless neck. He opened his mouth, lips parting to allow a stream of water to rush into his mouth. Then he closed it again, shaking his head, making water spray across the tile floor.

He turned, then, and Stan jumped in his skin, thinking for sure he would be seen. He wasn't. When Kyle turned his eyes were squinted shut. His thin hands moved to his front, smearing a colorless, foaming body wash along the his chest. His fingers splayed apart and pressed down over each visible abdominal.

Stan was always surprised at just how long Kyle's hair looked when it was wet, this time was no different. Even the heaviness of the water couldn't take out all the curl but he still managed to look like a shaggy red-headed sheep dog. As he stood there, watching, he remembered how he used to tug on the red curls whenever they got out of the pool or when had been swimming at the beach. He wanted to tug on them again.

It seemed like slow motion, watching Kyle's eyes open. Stan was still frozen in place as those emerald hews blossomed from behind long slightly curled lashes. Stan could feel his heart leaping up into his throat, trying to crawl out his mouth and run screaming for the hills. Too late-caught.

Kyle rubbed the water from his eyes, smoothing his auburn curls across his brow. It only took a short moment for his gaze to focus on Stan, standing there in front of him. Stan wasn't just standing there, he looked pretty fixated. Many thoughts jolted through Kyle's brain at that moment, such as "maybe he's frustrated that he has to see me here" and "I thought he didn't get out of practice for another fifteen minutes" even, "why are my cheeks turning hot, it's not like he's never seen me naked." Yet despite these things all that came from his lips were,

"Oh…uh hi, sorry." Sorry…..of all the things he could have said, he said he was sorry? Sorry for being there, in the shower, in Stan's way. He said sorry because Stan had to see him, as if he should have been more careful to avoid this other boy whom he had once been inseparable from.

Stan finally tore his eyes away from the other and turned to the side, looking pointedly at the far wall where the steam was rolling up the sides of a broad mirror. Kyle noticed the quick change in focus and looked down, feeling even more dejected. His best friend didn't even want to look at him and for some reason he felt a sudden pain in his chest.

"Kyle...uh." Stan turned his back to the boy, trying to hide his pink cheeks. He reached up and snagged a clean towel off the shelf and unfolded it slowly as he talked, trying to look busy. "Why are you hear? I thought you were still at the hospital?"

Kyle turned away as well, staring at the wall as he turned off the water and began to shove his things into a small netted bag. "Well the doctor said I was free to go, and that I could go ahead and start going back to track practice…since I was behind from staying overnight coach wanted me to do some warm up laps today."

"Oh so…so you're fine then?" Stan moved into the stall beside Kyle and laid his towel over the wall before setting his shampoo body-wash combination along. "Kyle… there is still shampoo in your hair." He said, glancing over at Kyle, who moved a hand up to feel the dark curls. Of course Stan was right, they felt slick. The Jewish boy furrowed his brow. Just how hard had Stan been looking?

Stan pulled his shit up over his head, and then tugged off his shorts and boxers. He didn't want to seem any more awkward than he already did. He was going to have to just suck it up and continue with what he was doing. He laid them out under his towel and the two boys turned the water back on at the same time. For a moment they were both lost in the heat and the sound of the water pounding over them.

The two showered in silence for several minutes until Stan realized he had forgotten to bring shampoo. With a long heavy sigh, and another moment of self-preparation, he looked over at Kyle. From the side the smaller boy looked even leaner, he could see the droplets of water sliding along every inch.

'Hey uh…can I use your shampoo?"

Kyle, fingers buried deep into his own hair glance back to Stan in return. Without really thinking about it his eyes moved up his 'sometimes friend's form, from the bottom abdominal to the top of his soaked hair. He was so much larger than he, he could have been swallowed by those thick intimidating muscles. Though he would never admit it, he had always ben jealous of the dark haired boy and his ability to really embrace working out at the gym and bulking up from his basketball games. He wasn't as large as Eric or the boys on the football team, but lingered somewhere in a happy medium that caught the attention of just about everyone and turned them green with envy.

Kyle bit his lip and looked away quickly, "sure dude."

Stan took the blue bottle and squirted a sizable amount into his hand. Immediately he was assaulted by the scent of coconut. He blinked and wrenched his head back away from his hand.

"Whoa, dude..." He couldn't help but grin, "it is coconut!"

Kyle, who was now blushing furiously, reached up and snagged the bottle from his hand, "if you don't like it don't use it!" but Stan just laughed and began to kneed the milky substance into his hair.

"No no..thanks, really"

Kyle turned the nob and shut off his shower, looking up as a few streams of liquid leaked out of the showerhead. He reached for his towel and began to scrub at his mane, pulling it away again to begin working it along his shoulders.

"Well?" he asked, leaning towards Stan a bit. Stan balked, backing away instinctively.

"uh…well what?"

"my hair, is there still shampoo in my hair?" Kyle asked firmly.

Stan swallowed hard and looked at the red coils. "it…looks fine to me." He said, and seeming satisfied with the answer Kyle wrapped his towel around his waste, took up his things and stepped out of the shower. He paused then and looked back at Stan…the dark haired boy was still staring at him through streams of water.

Stan's eyes were glossy beneath the artificial lights. They were the most startling shade of blue, brighter and more vivid than anyone else in the entire school, hands down. Kyle stared into them for a moment that lasted a little longer than he intended it to. But, Stan wasn't looking away and so the moment lingered until finally Kyle forced himself to break the contact.

There were so many things Kyle wanted to say. Like to thank his friend a hundred times for coming into the science room and saving his life. Maybe ask him to come hang out and play some video games, maybe ask him why he ran away that day in the hospital or why he looked at him with that indescribable expression on his face. Nothing came out. It felt like someone was literally holding onto his tongue, making him unable to speak.

He remained where he was, turned away from Stan, listening to the water crashing behind him, knowing-feeling that Stan was watching him. With one hand hooked onto the towel, holding it around his waist the other clenched at his side, holding tightly onto the string of his bag. He felt a knot rising up in his throat and suddenly felt like crying.

Was this how it was going to be? Would they really never be able to go back to how it was? Before Stan turned 18?

With these thoughts swirling around inside his head, Kyle bolted out of the shower area and toward the lockers without saying anything else. He easily located Stan's locker and flung it open…what a mess…Stan had always been sort of a slob with his lockers.

The red head, still dripping, towel threatening to slip down past his hips, he removed his hand so that he could file through the contents of Stan's locker with both of them. His Fingers found clothes, food wrappers, papers and even a banana peel and in the very back exactly what he knew was there, a silver flask.

Kyle brought it to his ear and shook it, hearing the liquid inside slosh against the sides. With a satisfied grin he pulled out a notebook and a cap-less pen, both from inside the mass of junk. He scribbled something down and set it inside before closing the door. The flask he slid into his mesh bag with the rest of his things and then continued on in getting himself dressed.

Stan watched Kyle round the corner and disappear into the locker room, all without realizing he had been following the other boy awkwardly with his gaze. Once he registered what he had been doing he turned away, the blush on his cheeks moving down to his neck.

"God damn it." Stan grumbled. "I really need to talk to somebody about this.: he said under his breath, resting his forehead against the wall behind the showerhead, the water pouring down the back of his neck, "I can't focus on anything…I need a fucking drink."

With that he turned off the water and began to dry off, headed into towards the lockers to fetch his flask.


	10. Chapter 10 RSVP Yes

A/N: Hello everyone, GlibCharm here. I want to thank all of you who have read and especially thanks you those who have left me comments! The more I write on this story the more confident I get with where this story is going. I have big plans for the next few chapters so continue sending me your feedback and/or requests. I also have a few guest characters that will be making an appearance at some point. I have a few story points I need to tie together and wrap up before they enter but fear not, many twists and turns and character development (and of course playful lemony goodness) is still in the cards.

Love GlibCharm

CH 10

If looks could kill…but they don't and so Kyle was safe for the time being. Until a time when Eric decided he would stop just staring daggers at the red-headed Jewish boy and instead start lashing out physically. Yet for now he was content with just looking at the smaller more fragile group member with the distain that had built up over a rather impressive span of years.

Eric Cartman, Football play, Debate Club leader, and notorious trash talker extraordinaire, sat with his ankles resting on the edge of the table. He was leaning back rather far in his chair and with a twist of his foot he was able to rock back and forth on the two legs that remained planted on the floor. He had been watching the most infuriating thing for the last ten minutes but hadn't said anything about it.

"You know I heard this carpet is made out of pig hair." Clyde said as he rolled a piece of half masticated burger around in his mouth.

"Bull shit, pigs don't even have hair." Kyle challenged, as he continued to do that annoying thing…that thing that was making Cartman's left brow twitch.

Kyle had a bad habit, like many people do, his was that he couldn't help but play with his food. He had pushed all of the mashed potatoes over to one side of the plate and then smashed a little line through the middle of the mound of mush to make a little path. He then began lining up individual peas inside this crevasse, followed by a row of carrots.

"Pig's do to have hair."

"They do-fucking-not"

"They totally do, and this carpet is made out of it. Just look at how nasty and bristly it is" Clyde jabbed his fork in the direction of a square of coarse cafeteria carpet as he swallowed his mouthful of food.

"Then why is it blue green? Pig's are not blue green."

"Because 'the man' want to disguise that It's pig pubes." Kenny chimed, still half way distracted by Bebe giving him a wry and strangely seductive come hither stare from across the room. He was waggling his eyebrows back at her, a wide shit eating grin spread across his face. Bebe giggled, as Red nudged her encouragingly.

"God blonds are hot…" Kenny purred under his breath.

"You're so into yourself." Cartman shot from the corner of his mouth, still not taking his eyes off the ginger.

"Like you aren't" Kenny pointed out.

"I have reasons to be into myself, you're just a hooker." Kenny shrugged at this comment. Both things said were true.

"My good looks make up for my inability to take girls out on dates"

Kyle guffawed at the remarks as he looked over his food. He paused for a moment, placing a hand on his chest, it had been aching slightly all day long. With a short massage to his clavicle he continued to play with his food, now getting to the part in his little routine that ticked Cartman off the most. With his nimble forefinger and his thumb he plucked the first carrot in his line up off the tray and pressed it to his lips, which parted delicately. With a slow and deliberate motion the carrot was pressed past the barrier of his teeth with smooth deliberation and disappeared. The entire table had gone quiet. The only one not watching this quiet little moment of sexual-tension transference was Kenny, and that was only because he was too busy undressing Bebe with his eyes.

Cartman clenched his fist, wrenching his gaze away from the sensual display and ran a quick look down the line of classmates that sat on either side of him. Cylde was still staring at Kyle, or at least at Kyle's lips. Butter's, who had been silently nibbling on a butter roll had stopped chewing and was gawking with a stupid half open mouth. As far as Cartman was concerned the little Jew always drew far too much attention to himself.

"You're a fucking slut, Kyle." Kenny had finally refocused himself and was the only one comfortable enough to openly point, and laugh at him. Kyle who was half way through inserting another carrot into his mouth, shrunk in embarrassment. Kenny slapped his own knee and buckled over slightly with the weight of his snortling.

"I've never seen anyone eat food like you do, Kyle." Butter's piped.

"Damn dude, you have some serious DSL you know that?" and with that said he lifted up the same hand he had used to swat his knee and patted Kyle on the back.

Kyle was blushing furiously, his cheeks gone a lush shade of pink. As Kenny's palm collided with his back the carrot shot clear across the table, and what a lucky shot it was-directly into Cartman's left eye. Cartman flailed a hand in front of his face and yelped in shock.

"God Damn'et! You little bastard!" He yelled, rubbing at his eye, feeling a moist spot along his lid. Kyle covered his mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh too hard. Everyone else was already gasping at the humor of it all. Except for Butter's who remained halfway erect in his seat, looking around in his typically confused manner.

"What's DSL, fella's?" he asked, blinking innocently. Once again Kenny lost it. Covering his face with both his hands as he rolled in laughter. Once he had finally calmed down he slid his lands from his face and leaned over to wrap an arm around Kyle's shoulders.

Kyle gave Kenny an incredulous look, that blush still quite evident. Kenny leaned in close to Kyle and put a finger to the redheads soft lips, sliding it along the lower cushion,

"DSL means….lips" with each word his grin grew broader and broader until finally Kyle swatted him off. He reached up and readjusted his green hat atop his unruly curls and huffed.

"Shut the fuck up Kenny!"

"What! It's totally true dude, you have girl lips." Cartman found this statement funny and he forgot all about being stabbed in the face by a flying carrot and switched to 'bully-kyle' mode in an instant. He dropped his feet down from the table and leaned forward menacingly.

"You're small enough to be a girl, and puny enough."

"Yeah well you have your own tea-set you fat tub of lard." Kyle leaned forward as well

"Hey! Shut your fucking face you blood belching vagina, there is nothing wrong with a man appreciating culture!" Cartman

"Appreciating culture? You're a racist pig! You don't appreciate shit!"

"I tolerate lots of people. The only people I don't tolerate are the ones that suck, like you…and your dick sucking lips!" The two were standing now, faces only inches apart, both grinding their teeth. They both stood in a similar stance, hackles raised and fists clenched at their sides.

….They stood like this for an extended moment…

…"Those two should just fuck and get it over with…" Craig said. He had turned around in his seat, from where he sat a table over, to watch the action. He sat there, arm lazily thrown across the back of his chair, blue hair tugged down just over his brows.

"Yeah." Tweak said, scratching the back of his neck impulsively. He was sitting next to Craig, also inverted in his seat, eyes wide.

Cartman and Kyle turned away from each other at the same time, both flushed with embarrassment.

"Shut the fuck up, Craig." Kyle grumbled, flopping back down into his seat.

"Yeah, suck my balls" Cartman added, and the two returned silently to their meals.

Stan watched from across the cafeteria as Cartman and Kyle had their little stand-off. He had moved to the edge of his seat, tense as if about to stand while he followed the heated exchange of words. He had seen Cartman clock Kyle a good one before, right across the jaw and it wasn't ever something pretty. Kyle, although meek looking and rather small, also wasn't something to mess around with. Eric obviously thought so, but most knew to avoid trying Kyle's legendary temper that matched his hair so very well. Just as quick as the fat boy was prepared to give Kyle a black eye, Kyle was willing to overlook his size and stature and land a solid punch right across Cartman's cheek if he was provoked far enough. This was why Stan was in launching position.

"Stan, are you listening to me?" Wendy sighed, reaching forward across the table to tug at the sleeve of his yellow blazer. Stan redirected his attention to her and let his body relax a bit. She was staring at him with those big eyes she had, so soft a blue they were almost violet, like that movie star, Elizabeth Taylor. Stan had told her before that she could have been her sister, if she wasn't so old. Taylor was dead now, a whole year so. Strange to think about that it had been at least a year since he had said those nice thing's to Wendy.

"Yeah, sorry…" Stan said forcing a meager smile before taking another bite of his grilled cheese.

"What was I saying then?" she asked, folding her arms, her brow shooting up beneath the fringe of her dark bangs.

"You were telling me about what you're going to wear to the party." Stan confirmed, mimicking her raised brow.

"Okay fine, so you were listening." She let out another sigh and gave him a sort of pouty look, her lips pursed slightly and her brows dropping slightly. It was a fetching expression, one that she used often when she wanted something. Stan new it very well, she had used it on him several times this week, especially when she caught his find wandering. God, if only she knew to what it was usually wandering too. It had been two days since the incident-where he had walked in on Kyle showering- and still he couldn't get the subtle details to stop replaying themselves in his head.

He had gone to his locker after showering and gathered up his things. It took him a few minutes to realize something was missing. In the place of his favorite flask was a note in Kyle's hand writing. Stan could feel his heart dropping down into his stomach as he had read it.

[If you want this back then come to Craig's party.]

-fuck-that had been all Stan could think about. Kyle in the shower and seeing Kyle at this damned party that everyone was talking so much about. There were parties all the damn time, why was this one so freakin important, he wondered. As if on Cue, Wendy spoke.

"You have you decided to go to Craig's party yet?"

He had been eating lunch with Wendy regularly. He found the company rather nice, a pleasant change from his solitude. Plus, Wendy didn't ask about Kyle, and he liked that. Sometimes she would bring Bebe over to eat with them and the two girls would flitter on about this or that with each other. Stan was content to just sit, listen, and eat in silence during these moments, he was just glad to have someone around-it really didn't seem so shitty after all.

Before Stan had the time to answer her question a hand came down on the table in front of him, snapping him out of his daze and startling Wendy. The two looked up at the culprit, a long tall boy with a blue hat and the perpetual expression of 'I don't give two fucks (about stupid ass whales)' He wore a long dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tight dark wash jeans and a belt with a buckle shaped like a hand giving the illustrious middle finger. Stan knew for a fact that the teachers didn't approve of that and had seen the arguments take place several times over the last few months ever since Craig had first worn it to school-but everyone who knew Craig knew that arguing with him was next to impossible. You just didn't argue with Craig.

"So Stan, you're coming to my party right?" He asked in a droll monotone characteristic of him it was almost comical. The hand that was not pressed firmly down on the table moved up to his head to readjust his blue hat more comfortable against his head, and then smoothed a few misshaped shocks of dark hair across his brow. He wasn't smiling the way most people smile, he had the corners of a very straight mouth turned up ever so slightly. That was the way that Craig smiled, most people who didn't know him might call it a scowl, or total indifference but Stan had been around him long enough to know the difference.

Stan seemed to button up, bristling slightly from the sudden assault from so many different angles. He felt his insides boil up and discomfort rush through his veins. He tried to take a deep breath but failed, feeling a pricking rise up all along his arms in the form of goose pimples.

"Of course he's going to be there, aren't you Stan." Wendy flashed a bright smile at Craig, looking up at him with a sparkling expressing. It was Craig's turn to raise a brow, he looked from the silvery expression on Wendy's face to the bland and uncomfortable one plastered on Stan's. The corners of his lips unturned a bit more. It hadn't gone unnoticed by him or many others that Stan had been spending an awful lot of time hanging around Wendy lately. He noticed the way she looked at him, sort of like the way she used to a long time ago. Frankly he wasn't really sure why? Stan had turned into one hell of a bummer.

"That true, Stan? You're the only person that hasn't RSVP'd and I want the whole basketball team there." Craig pushed.

"Yeah, I'll be at the God Damned Party." Stan lifted his tray up slightly and then thrust it back down onto the table with a loud bang. Craig, slightly startled, winced back a little bit, his expression unchanging.

"Well that's good." He said simply.

"I don't know why it's suddenly so important to everyone that I show up to a stupid party!" Stan growled, standing up and picking his tray up again, with one hand. The two boys rose to about the same height. Stan really had never understood why Craig had never decided to try out for the basketball team, but then again he did know that the he had his job at the diner's to keep him busy, waste of possible talent if anyone asked him.

"You know Stan, it isn't that everyone else stopped caring. It's that you did." And with that Craig turned around, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jeans and the other he raised in a half wave, "see you at the Party, Wendy…Stan."

Stan stood there holding his tray. 'it isn't that everyone else stopped caring, it's that you did….' The words hung in the air like a fog. '…it's that you did….' The basketball star hung his head, squinting his eyes tightly closed for a moment. Wendy looked at him with a distinguished frown.

"Stan…" she murmured, leaning forward out of her seat to touch his arm. Stan shrugged it off, his aura dark.

"Don't…just…don't" and with that he turned and moved off, stormily, to throw away his trash. He needed a drink-which he couldn't have because of course Kyle had taken his flask.

Craig flopped down into his chair, facing the opposite direction. He folded his arm along the back of his chair and rested his chin in his hand. He slouched a bit and let out a sort sigh, rocking his shoed against the floor.

"So what did he say?" Clyde asked as he gathered up his trash and piled it onto of his place. Eric and Kenny tuned in at Cylde's question, both passing a glance at each other. They slowed down the process of gathering their things in order to listen.

"Yeah what did he say?" Butters pushed.

"What did who say?" Craig asked, curling the sting of his hat around his finger. The three boy's listening suddenly looked blistery. Craig always did things like this, he had to just love suspense and took so completely calm while enjoying it.

"What did Stan say?" Clyde clarified, giving Craig an annoyed glare. At Stan's name Kyle tuned in, the whole table zoned on Craig, who sat there, completely cool with that disinterested smile playing across his lips. Kyle felt his stomach sink, he looked down at his book bag, which he had tucked between his legs, knowing that still, Stan's flask was hidden there.

"He and Wendy are both coming." Craig finally said, wrapping his fingertips against his cheek. Hearing this Kyle felt his sinking stomach twist, and all the breath seemed to escape his lungs. Stan was going to be there, at the party…with Wendy. Where they together? Had Wendy and Stan rekindled their dead relationship…and if so why did he care?

"I need to go to the bathroom…" Kyle murmured, standing up with his tray. Inside, his thoughts were turbulent but the reasons were unclear. He hadn't talked to Stan since that afternoon in the locker room. He had been surprised that the older boy handn't confronted him and asked him to give the flask back. To be honest he probably would have given in if he had, but perhaps the reason he hadn't asked for it was because he had already been planning to go to Craig's party-with Wendy.

Kenny followed Kyle with his eyes, and then looked back to the other boys. He could see the struggle in the jewish boy's face, the way his freckled nose wrinkled a bit. For a moment he considered following him and seeing if he could do anything, but Eric was looking hungry and he figured he should probably stay and quell him-it would probably serve Kyle better that way at any rate.

"So Kenny can I still count on you to get the boo's for the party?" Craig asked.

"Yeah, synch." Kenny confirmed.

"Awesome, and Cartman do you still have those really nice ipod speakers you got for my birthday?"

"mhm."

The sounds of the conversation faded as Kyle rounded the corner, hugging his bookbag to his chest as he leaned against the wall, staring at the clock. He blinked a few times and then closed his eyes. They couldn't be together…Stan and Wendy…they just couldn't. Just because Stan was hanging out with here and not him didn't mean that they were dating again, right? His lips curved into a frown and he opened his eyes again, looking down at the 'pig hair carpet'.

His chest hurt. He reached a hand up and flattened it just beneath his collar bone with a wince. Now that he thought on it, he had been having trouble breathing all through lunch. The pain was growing steadily more severe. He reached into the side pocket of his book bag and pulled out his inhaler. He pushed the opening to his lips, sprayed and took a deep draft.

Ever since he was little he had avoided using his inhaler in public, but since the hallway seemed clear he didn't feel too self-conscious this time. The relief was slight, but immediate, taking the edge off. He replaced the inhaler back into his bag and moved off to find his locker.


	11. Chapter 11 Tension Rises

A/N: I am accepting new Beta's for this story. The one I have now just doesn't have the time to dedicate to the revisions and editing this story needs, unfortunately. I will post the next chapter when I have 3 more comments 3

Ch 11

"So does this mean that I don't get your x-box?" Kenny asked, raising his hand up to about chin height, index finger pointing upwards. his whole face drooped as Kyle rolled his eyes and then shook his head slowly.

"Sorry, Kenny." Kyle said, as he looked down at the shiny metal flask. He rolled it over in his hands a few times, examining it. He had planned on emptying out the contents but Cartman had gotten to it first. Just then the large brunette reached an arm up and over the Jew's head and snatched the silver bottle from his grasp. He held it there, above him, teasingly.

"I better still get that Modern Warfare 3 game." He barked, "I already told the football team that I have it so don't you dare screw me over!" His eyes followed Kyle as the shorty raised up on his tip-toes in an attempt to reach Stan's precious stolen treasure.

The flask just beyond the reach of his fingertips. He clawed for it. "It's not my fault you counted your eggs before they were hatched, fat-ass!" He bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling more and more ridiculous.

"what is that, some freaky Jewish proverb?" Cartman laughed, still keeping the flask just out of reach. He clamped his tongue gently between his teeth as he watched his little friend bounce like a puppy after a chew toy. He loved seeing Kyle reduced to these sorts of levels, as rare as it was to be able to make that happen. It made his insides writhe with a sadistic twinge of pleasure.

"No, you stupid prick, it's just a proverb." His cheeks her getting red with anger, and the inability to reach the flask was making his blood boil. He really wasn't in the mood for this right now. He clenched one fist with a defiant snarl and wheeled it back in preparation to punch the living daylights of his anti-semetic….friend…

"give it back, Cartman!" He demanded.

"oooooOOOoh, getting angry. What are you going to do, put the sheeny-curse on me?" Eric moved the decanter in a circle above whisps of red hair. Kenny, watching, couldn't help but laugh. The insulted Jew was about at the end up of his very short rope, his fist shoot but he dropped it, he just couldn't allow Cartman to bug him this much. Good thing he had a long history of dealing with the fat kid and was relatively used to this sort of treatment, but how was one supposed to just ignore such ignorant bull-shit?

"SHUT THE FUCK UP CARTMAN!" He finally gave up trying to grab it, and dropped his arms, folding them in a pout across his chest. He knew that if he just stopped reacting so much then those brown eyes would loose that sparkle of interest and he would win in the end. The tactic was pretty solid. Seeing Kyle give up was all the satisfaction Eric needed. He tossed the bottle back to him absently and let out a long, bored sigh.

"So now what?" Kenny asked, fiddling with the string of his hood.

"I don't know…." Kyle admitted looking up at the stop yellow 'Bus Stop' sign that was older than he was. There was a little snow piled up along the top edge of it. He had the urge to reach up and brush it off. He felt like he had snow piled up on him as well. So heavy, so bogged down. Stan may have been coming to the party, but he was coming because of Wendy, not because of him…this...actually really hurt.

"Well, Kyle…what do you want out of this? I mean, you got what you wanted-sorta." Kenny pointed out.

"Sorta-that's the thing. He's going to be with Wendy. He won't be there alone so I won't be able to really talk to him." Kyle said, the exasperation evident in his voice.

Cartman rolled his eyes, grinding his teeth, "Why does it fucking matter? Did you forget that he completely ditched you at the hospital?" He looked at the redhead, at that look of torment on his face. He was the only one who was supposed to get this far under the Jew's skin.

"He saved my life, Eric." Kyle said, and the look her gave the larger boy was filled with emotion. Those bright green eyes clouded with such unexplainable feeling made him deeply uncomfortable, he glanced away, tensing up.

"He just wanted to play the hero. Fucking goody-goody pussy." It was always about Stan, fucking STAN- the guy who ditched all his friends, turned into a prick and a raging alcoholic and still everyone was obsessed with him. What about him, what about Eric Cartman who was always here? He was always consistently who he was. Sure he could be a dick, sure maybe he took things that were of advantage to him, but who didn't. At least he wasn't trying to hide that fact that he was a jerk, unlike Stan who hid under that hero persona.

"He saved mine too…" Kenny pointed out.

"You know what. Fuck you both. Fuck you Kyle. Fuck you Kenny. I'm going home." And with that Eric threw up his hands and stormed off in the direction of his house. The other two boys watched him go, their expressions similarly displaying half surprise and confusion.

"Jeez. What the fuck was that about?" Kyle asked, frowning, eyes following the form of the football played as he disappeared over the crest of the hill.

"Who knows what makes him freak out when he does…Fuck." Kenny shoved his hands into his hood pocket, thumbing at his cell phone. He felt it vibrate in his fingers and he pulled it out, jabbing the unlock key. He hated his phone, it was just a cheap little thing, with the antenna chewed off and a bullet key chain dangling off the side. A little grey box with a chipped screen.

One new message from: Butters.

"ugh…" Kenny grumbled as he opened the message, his groan lengthening as he read the text. He could feel his palms already beginning to sweat.

[Kenny I miss you. Come see me tonight. 3 3 Marjorine]

Kenny really wasn't sure how he could tell his friends about Marjorine, and he also wasn't so sure he even wanted to. He did have to admit that he could use some serious advice about the whole thing, and Kyle was one of-if not- the smartest kid in school.

What would Kyle have to say about what happened between he and Butter's body the other day? Would he be able to understand the difference between the two separate personalities? Kenny figured he probably would. Sure he may be a little freaked out at first, but he was his friend and he would take the time to hear him out.

[Hey babe. I dunno if I can come tonight but I will try] Kenny replied, thumbing over the buttons. It didn't take long for another text to zap his phone from somewhere in cyber space. He couldn't help but allow a small smile to curl up the ends of his mouth. She just made him smile.

[Pleeeeeeease. I really need to talk to you] – Butters

[I will do my best O.K?] –Kenny

[ ] -Butters

Kyle tried to eaves drop over Kenny's shoulder, but the blond jerked his hand down, shoving the phone back into his pocket just as a furious blush swept across his cheeks. He may have been considering telling Kyle about Marjorine, but right that moment wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"Who was that, Kenny?"

"Nobody...Nobody important." Kenny cleared his throat, trying to act casual.

"Mhm..who are you fucking?" Kyle grinned, trying to reach for the phone inside Kenny's hoodie.

"We aren't fucking." Kenny leaned away, trying to turn his body to keep Kyle from intruding upon his strange little secret. Like the fact that he had dragged the kid that the whole school knew to be a notorious melvin into the bathroom for a steamy make out session.

Kenny could still picture the soft pink glow on Butter's/Marjorine's face when his hand had slid down the length of their silken back. The way their mouth had opened obediently when he coaxed it to do so by pressing his teeth gently into the cushiony lip. The petite form of the blond had felt so right wrapped up in his arms.

"Oh so it is someone you're talking to then, come on, Ken tell me!" Kyle persisted, his grin widening. Kenny growled and then pretended to bite at Kyle's hand, barking playfully.

"Nadda yo' business jew-fro." He insisted, baring his teeth.

"You make one ugly ass dog, dude." The two laughed, Kyle flinging his arm over his friend's shoulder. The difference in their height wasn't as extreme as it was with most of Kyle's other friends, Kenny was only slightly taller than he was.

"My Kenny…growing up so fast."

"You should know I'm not all that grown up." Kenny snorted, stiff arming Kyle in the chest to hold him off.

"Come on Kenny…dude seriously." Kyle finally relented, but gave him a hurt expression. "You tell me everything, Kenny...I mean really, what has been with you and Cartman recently, you both have been acting kinda strange." Kenny had to admit that it was true. Eric had been acting strange for whatever reason…he had a few guesses as to why but in no way was certain.

As for himself, ever since he had begun his midnight crusades through South Park he felt…different, sort of like he had a real purpose. He did, didn't he, isn't that what he had decided? There were some things he couldn't ever tell his friends. Sure maybe there was the saying that a best friend will help you burry a body, but he was fairly certain that wasn't supposed to be taken literally.

"I'm sorry Kyle." He finally said, "I know I've been a little off for awhile."

"You're distracted and tired all the time…I mean think about it, you used to be able to lift me up off my feet pretty easily, but you've been so tired you can hardly raise your book bag. You needed Stan's help to pull me out of that fire. You don't even really seem to be eating very much—which isn't like you."

The bond boy chuckled, raising his hands in defense, "Whoa Kyle, easy…yeah I know, I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't really been sleeping well."

"Why not?" Kyle asked, raising his brow, "because you sleep on the floor?" He laughed.

"Yup."

"Your family sucks, dude."

"…Yup, I know. Fuck my house."

The conversation seemed to putter out, but Kenny was glad that at least it had taken a direction away from his newest infatuation. He shoved his hand into his pocket, feeling his phone vibrate. He glanced over at Kyle and decided that maybe he would just leave this one alone, he didn't want to re-spark his interest. Marjorine could wait a little bit for a reply.

"Hey…Kenny." Kyle finally spoke and Kenny turned his head to look at him. The Jew's voice seemed strange, half swallowed up by the silence around them. His eyes were cast to the snow covered ground, shocks of auburn hair falling across his brow, gently buffeted by the slight breeze. His nose was colored pink by the cold and he could see puffs of breath escaping his lips.

"Yeah, Kyle?"

"Do you think Stan hates me?"

Kenny's eyes opened slightly wider in surprise. He hadn't expected that to be the next topic in conversation, but then again Stan had been a pretty prevalent interest these days. It was amazing how apart of all their lives he still was even without having been around.

"I mean…do you think that he stopped hanging out with us because he just doesn't like me anymore?" Kyle looked so sad at that moment that Kenny couldn't help but feel his chest tighten. He turned away from him and the two stood there in silence until finally Kenny thought of what to say.

"You know, Kyle…I don't think he hates you at all." Kenny finally said, lifting his chin. He watched as an airplane scooted across the sky above them.

"You don't?" Kyle straightened up a bit, brow furrowing in confusion. He had expected Kenny to just come out and tell him to give it up; to leave Stan alone and just forget about trying to be his friend. That the basketball player had moved on to bigger and better things.

"Nope. Not at all." He insisted. Kyle just stared at him.

"Then why aren't we friends anymore?"

"Because…." Kenny sighed. He reached a hand to the back of his own neck and rubbed at a persistent knot. He really didn't feel comfortable with talking about it, but perhaps it was time he said some of the things he had been thinking. Was Kyle ready to hear what he had to say? There was only one way to find out.

"I think Stan…I think that Stan wants…" he was having trouble thinking of what words to use. "I think that Stan is confused."

Vague.

Kyle exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping. "Come on, Kenny!" he could tell that the blond was holding something back.

"Kyle…how do YOU feel about Stan?" Kenny asked.

"What do you mean 'how do I feel about Stan?' you know how I feel about him, we've known each-other since we were babies, we've been best friends since kindergarten maybe even before that!"

"and?" Kenny pushed

"and what?" Kyle snapped, growing frustrated.

"You know what...never mind, just forget I said anything…" Kenny winced. Kyle wasn't ready to hear this…he was going to have to weasel himself out of this situation.

"Oh No..no no no.. Kenny talk to me!" but just as Kyle began protesting, a silver sedan came up over the hill, slowed, and then stopped in front of them on the street. The front door lined up with the yellow bus stop sign, and the two boys standing beside it could see one of their classmates, Jimmy, waving from the front seat.

"Oop, looks like out ride is hear." Kenny said, grinning toothily. Kyle growled under his breath and eyes him back, fire in his emerald eyes. It looked like for now the conversation was going to have to wait. The side door to the vehicle slip open and a figure appeared in the opening. It was Tweak, another boy from their class.

Craig was leaning over the armrest of the driver's seat, towards them. He had a pair of aviator shades perched on the bridge of his nose and he made a motion tug them down to the tip of his nose as he examined them.

"Well, are you going to get in?" he asked, that dry voice leaking from between his teeth. It was hard to ever know when the kid was joking or being serious, his tone never really changed. Kenny nodded and was the first one to leap up into the SUV, landing so hard it shook the whole of it. Kyle followed, rolling his eyes, knowing that the blond boy was reveling in his minute victory.

The two boys settled themselves in the far back, leaning forward and towards the middle in order to be part of the rest of the group. Craig, Jimmy, and Tweak. The middle right seat, by the door, remained empty and as the door shut and Tweak took his eat opposite it Craig cleared his throat.

"So…where is the fat ass?" he asked, looking from Kenny to Kyle. The two exchanged a look before Kyle spoke.

"He just stormed off like a little pussy. So it looks like I'm going to have to be the one to do it." He shoved a thumb over his shoulder, pointing back towards Cartman's house.

"Are you serious? That f-f-f-f-f-f-fucking jack –ass…oh well, you're almost just a skilled at breaking the law, aren't you Kenny?" Jimmy interjected.

"He's not coming? How are we going to do this without him being here? Oh Jeez, guys maybe this isn't such a good idea. I dunno, come on maybe we should rethink this!" Tweak wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing tightly. Used to these sorts of antics, and this rather generic episode of complete and total paranoia, the rest of the boys simply ignored him.

"Calm the fuck down, Kenny can do it. Let's get going before Tweak has a seizure." Kenny said, patting the back of the spaz's chair. The others faced around front, including Craig who thrust the car out of park and pulled back out into the street.

The buildings passed slowly by them out the window as Kyle watched. The back window was heavily tented. He had to squint to see anything; but as he strained to view the world speeding by, he could have sworn that he saw a familiar form. He pressed his face to the dark glass, nose turning upwards awkwardly. It was Stan, head dropping, hand shoved into his pockets, walking in the opposite direction. He felt his heart skip a beat, lips curving into a smile. His brain screamed 'Stan!" but the rest of him recoiled. He shrank away from the window, sinking into himself. He glanced up at the rest of the group to see if anyone else had noticed their estranged friend. It seemed no one had. The conversation in the car continued as if the moment had never happened.

"Are you ready for this Kenny?" Jimmy asked, drolly, looking over the shoulder of his seat as he readjusted one of his heavy arm braces, which he had stacked, between his legs. Kenny lifted his chin and grinned. He plucked at the front of his hoodie and pursed his lips in the most 'gansta' way he could manage.

"Dude I was born for this shit. Nobody has shit on me."

"Yeah, Kenny hasn't been caught even once." Craig added.

"Cartman is better." Tweak interjected, still cradling himself with his arms. Everyone shot him a look.

"Well the douche bag ditched, so its Kenny's game." Kenny said, referring to himself in the third person as he laced his fingers together. A wicked grin swept across his face. His alter ego might have a few hang ups about doing these sorts of things, but he had been doing ever since he was little, it was almost second nature.

"Bring it on." He purred.


	12. Chapter 12 The Heist

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. It amazes me to think that we have already come so far! Lots of action has been building up and It's got me all excited, I hope it has you feeling that way! This story seems to be flowing very well, even without a Beta reader to help me catch all the typo's and grammar fo-pa's. Keep commenting and I will keep writing 3

-GlibCharm

Ch 12

No-one ever checked Jimmy's ID. The thing was more than obviously fake, and stated that the boy was 21, and from California. It was just something about him being a cripple that made it Taboo to ask too many questions. Jimmy having this great advantage coupled with the fact that the place had one attendant and no camera's made the South Park liquor store more than the perfect target for the gang's little scheme.

Eric and Jimmy had pulled off this little play more than once, and the one time Eric had gotten caught he had been able to weasel his way right out of it without any consequences, it hadn't been a different tenant than the one working now. With Cartman gone, it was up to Kenny to take his place.

Everyone was in position. Kenny glanced over at Craig's SUV, which was parked no less than eight parking spots down from the liquor store. Craig had already exited the vehicle and was passing the key's off to Jimmy, who gave Ken a thumbs up.

He then glanced to the other side, where Tweak was leaning against the wall of the store, smoking a cigarette. He looked extremely nervous, but luckily the cigarette was keeping his nerves at a manageable pace. The two blonds nodded at each other and Kenny took hold of the door handle and pushed himself into it.

The bell rang above his head as he entered. He knew the layout of the place pretty well. To the left side was the register which faced the back wall. It was perfectly set up for this kind of job. Along the entire counter stood huge displayed of different high paying liquor brands which shielded the entrance from the workers view. The rest of the store was divided into five aisles. One for chasers, one for wine, two for hard liquor, and one for beer.

Kenny's icy eyes scanned the place in it's entirety and then, which hand in his pocket and his hood resting against his brow, he disappeared towards the back of the store, moving down the chaser aisle, waiting for the next move.

One a few moments passed until Jimmy entered, making distinct sounds of struggle as he clanked his metal walkers together. The two were careful not to look at each other. The handicapped kid rounded the side of the front counter and came up in front of the register where the Man stood, filing away packets of cigarettes into the hanging ceiling compartments.

"Excuse me s-s-sir." Jimmy asked, looking up at him with a broad smile. The tenant's brows raised and he paused what he was doing.

"Uh, yeah…can I help you with something?"

"Oh, yes, as you can see it's rather hard for me to carry things. My friend is still shopping in the grocery store and I thought I would go ahead and get the wine he wanted." Without hesitation he leaned on one walker and reached into his pocket with his newly freed hand, "This is my ID, if you could help me take two bottles of Yankzez Shiraz to our car I would b-b-b-b-be really thankful."

The Tenant nodded his head, "Of course, sure I will help you. You just want two bottles of this here?" he confirmed, looking at one of the gaudy displays of the counter. As if anyone would say no to a cripple, especially Jimmy who was known for being quite the charmer. He always had this way with people, and he usually got what he wanted.

"Yes, sir." Jimmy said, placing twenty five dollars down between them. The man took the money, leaving the ID, and wrang-up the two bottles. After placing them into a paper bag together he pushed the ID back towards Jimmy, who slipped it back into his pocket. He patted it against his hip, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Together, Jimmy and the liquor store clerk, made their way out of the store, and towards the empty vehicle. Kenny knew his que, and as soon as he heard the bell above the door ring he reached down and snagged two cases of beer and sped to the door. He waited until the clerk was far enough away and then bounced the door open with his hip.

"Hey, Tweak." He hissed, and the other blond boy jumped, dropping his cigarette. Quickly he regained his composure and took the two cases from Kenny just as Kyle peeked from around the corner. The little train of boys rocked the cases around the side of the building and out of sight of the main parking lot, stacking them on top of one another. Sweeping a hand across his brow to clear away the beading sweat, Kenny whipped back around and hurried back into the store. He grabbed two more cases of beer and then popped back outside with them, taking a glance to see where Jimmy and the man were.

Jimmy was brilliant, he pretended to get one of his walkers stuck in the grate of a storm drain and the man was busying himself with trying to help him out of it, which Jim was making very difficult. Kenny couldn't help but giggle as he passed off the beer and went back for more.

In a rush he grabbed one of the empty boxes that were stacked beside the door and dragged it over to the hard liquor. He scooped two bottles of Jack, two handles of goose, and two bottles of expensive looking tequila. He struggled with picking the box up, the sound of glass against glass making his heart skip a beat as he wrestled it out the door.

-tic-tic-tic-tic- Kenny could practically hear the clock on the wall pounding against his ear, he knew he was running out of time quickly, Jimmy could only stall for so long-and God forbid another customer came in during this little charade.

Tweak was shaking all over from nerves and didn't seem to be able to manage taking the box from him, his palms were slicked with sweat and his teeth were chattering. He looked deathly pale. Kenny shot a glance over his shoulder, and saw that the tenant was helping Jimmy into the SUV, they were about out of time.

"Come on, Tweak! Take the Fucking box!" Tweak tried, but was frozen solid.

"Oh for Christ sake." Kenny shoved past the boy and launched the box directly into Kyle's chest, nearly knocking him over with the force of it. Kyle managed to wrap his arms around the heavy bundle and set it gently near the other's, sputtering as he tried to regain the breath that had just been knocked out of him.

Kenny looked back towards the vehicle again and was relieved to see that Craig had come out of the nearby store to stall the man, striking up a conversation with him.

Kenny slipped back into the store and lifted two bottles of coconut rum off one of the displays and tucked them up under his orange hoodie. He made his way for the door again just as a shadow darkened the other side. It was the clerk.

Kenny felt his stomach clench. He turned around quickly and booked it to the other end of the store, emptying out his jacket. It looked like he wouldn't be able to get any more out. He heard the bell and listened to the foot falls of the tender as he made his way back behind the counter. He exhaled heavily, running a sweaty palm against his brow. That was way too close.

Outside, Craig and Jimmy were in the front seats of the car, and Craig was rolling the vehicle around the corner. Tweak lurched for the side door and threw it open with a loud bang. Everyone winced at the reverberating sound.

"Jesus, Tweak, quiet!" Kyle demanded as he began to push the boxes into the car. Tweak helping guide each one into an acceptable position. Once they were all neatly organized everyone settled into their seats.

"S-Sorry!" he squeaked.

Craig was counting the boxes, and frowned. "Shit…that's all we got? Four cases of beer, one case of liquor?" He squeezed his fingers around the steering wheel, and looked away just in time to see a very shaky Kenny coming around the corner to meet them.

"You didn't get very much, Kenny." Craig said accusingly as the rest of the boxes were loaded up and the boys crawled into the back.

"Yeah well, I'm not as big as Cartman, I can't carry as much as he can." Kenny defended, looking at his handy work. "Just be glad we got what we did."

"We spent twenty five bucks on that wine shit, and I was counting on the pay off being twice this." Jimmy added. Kyle looked over at Kenny who was looking more and more frustrated with each passing work. He reached out and squeezed his shoulder, and smiled at him.

"Come on jack-asses! Craig, drive!" Jimmy demanded. Craig took his foot off the break and double timed it around the back of the liquor store towards the main road without another word.

"I think you did pretty damn good, Kenny, better than I could have done." His smile turned into a grin and Kenny managed to force one back at him.

"Haha...yeah, thanks, Kyle." He then leaned back against the leather chair and let a heavy breath escape his chest. That had been horribly stressful, he had done it but didn't want to do anything similar any time soon, Cartman could have his job back as far as Kenny was concerned.

The door was locked. Eric knew what that meant.

He stepped away from his own front door, backing up into the yard and looked up at the second floor. Yup, the curtains were drawn in the right hand window. With a heavy sigh he moved back towards the front step and crouched down. He lifted up the matt and grabbed the note and the eight dollars that were tucked there.

Eric didn't open up the folded piece of paper, instead he just tucked it into the pocket of his jeans along with the money. He could already guess what it said- something about how much his mom loved him, and to use the money however he wanted. He was going to get something to eat, he was starving. Usually knowing that his mom had a client in the house made him loose his appetite, but he was so used to it by this point that he just didn't picture it anymore.

Before he reached the side walk he bent down and picked up a small stone. He turned it over in his hand before hurling it at his mother's window. Direct contact.

"Fucking, bitch." He growled, clenching his fists. His jaw was set stiffly, and he ground his teeth together as he turned around and began to march towards town. He should have known not to come back home after mentioning that he might be hanging out with 'the guys' all afternoon. Damn his impulsivity, he had missed out on 'Booze Baiting' for nothing- a cold walk home and eight dollars.

He thought about how much he wanted to go inside and just crash on the couch, maybe pull out his hand held game system and play a few mini games. Didn't look like that was going to happen, so eating was the next best thing, he supposed. With eight dollars he could get the new double wings and fries combo with the jumbo coke. Thinking about this brought a grin back on his face, his eyes closed tightly as he walked, one fist clenched triumphantly in front of him. In fact he was so lost in his buffalo wing fantasy that he didn't see to stop himself before bumping directly into someone.

Stan also, hadn't been looking where he was going, he had been looking down at his cell-phone. He and Wendy had been texting each other back and forth for the last few hours since school had let out. He had taken a short trip to the liquor store and had bought himself a bottle of Jamison, which he had clutched in his other hand. Or—well, it had been.

When the two boys collided it was the immovable object meeting the unstoppable force. The two both crashed to the snowy pavement along with both of their cell phones, and both of their dignities-along with Kyle's freshly bought bottle of liquor, which shattered instantly against the hard ground.

Eric growled angrily, reaching a hand up to cup his forehead. How had they hit so hard, they had only been walking? He let his eyes focus for a moment, blinked, and then took in the image of Stan staring down at the wet paper bag that lay on the side walk beside them. He looked stunned more than anything, and rightfully so. He too was wondering how they had collided with such force.

Eric picked himself up quickly, brushing the dirt off the backside of his pants. Stan didn't he just sat there for a moment before slowly reaching out to pick up the back. He lifted it a few inches off the ground and then just let it go. He stood up and glared at Cartman venomously.

"Don't fucking look at me like that, you should have been watching where you were going." Eric snapped, returning the glare.

"Yeah, you too, fat-ass." Stan quipped, wrinkling his nose. "Thanks a lot." He added, gesturing to the demolished bottle.

"Whatever, pussy." Cartman responded, folding his arms across his broad chest, leaning in towards Stan menacingly. The two stared each other down in silence after this for a long moment until Stan finally spoke up.

"You owe me another bottle."

"I don't owe you shit, alchy."

"Don't even…" Stan's face was blossoming with rage.

"Oh, don't even what? Hmm. You know it's true, and everyone else knows it's true. You're a wreck dude. You may be the star basketball player but that isn't going to last long. You're going to be a looser your entire life. So you know what- here." Eric reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed through the bills and pulled out a ten, shoving it into the other boy's chest. "There, ten bucks. Go buy some more of your shit." And with that he rounded Stan and continued on his way.


	13. Chapter 13 Domestic Boys Part 1

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I've posted a chapter. I am swamped right now but things will be lightening up soon. Her is a short teaser chapter to wet your appetite!

Kenny looked down as he fingered through his keys, looking for the one to the front door. He had just found it when he heard a loud crash coming from inside. He looked up, shoved the key into the lock, and turned the knob. The door opened but was caught shortly after by two chain locks.

"Christ." He grumbled, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling anger swelling up in the pit of his chest. He thrust the toe of his shoes against the door three times then, he rapped his knuckles, calling out loudly.

"It's me, unlock the damn door." He pulled his hand back and folded his arms across his chest, waiting. Finally someone came to the door, an eye peeking through the slight opening. The light golden brown hew looked tired, and was followed by a voice that matched.

"Oh, sorry Kenny…mom and dad locked the double latch." The door closed and the sound of the metal clasps being slid off their rails could be heard from the other side before the door was flung open again.

"Thanks, Karen." Kenny said, tossing his book bag to the corner. He kicked the door closed behind him and turned to reset the locks. He knew exactly why the door had been locked, it was always like that when he got home lately.

"Are mom and dad in the basement?" Kenny asked Karen, already knowing the answer. Karen nodded slowly, looking at the faded blue carpet. Kenny let out an annoyed sigh and headed towards the kitchen, "You haven't eaten yet either, have you?" again Karen nodded slowly.

Kenny unzipped his hoodie and tossed it on the couch as he passed it, and then began rolling up the sleeves of his white undershirt. He did his best to paint his face with a somewhat pleasant expression and turned back around to face his younger sister with his hands set determinedly on his hips.

"Alright then, how about macaroni?" he asked, watching Karen's dull eyes suddenly light up at the mention of food. The small girl nodded her head vigorously and crawled up into one of the chairs set beside the lopsided table. Kenny had done his best to even it out by placing one of his school books under the gimp leg, but it still wobbled a bit.

"Careful Karen, don't lean on the table okay. " The blond boy moved to the corner of the kitchen and yanked the ratty yellow apron of the hook on the wall. He pulled it on over his head and then with a quick practiced motion tied the bow at his back. He began fishing through the cabinets for a pot big enough to cook a whole mess of cheesy macaroni. Once he found it he set it on the stove. He grimaced, the iron coils and the structure bellow really needed to be cleaned, but he just didn't have it in him. He let out another sigh and went ahead and poured water into the pot, setting the stove on low boil while he pulled the pasta from the pantry and the cheese from the refrigerator. The fridge also could have used a good cleaning.

"I'm going to have to spend a day cleaning the damned kitchen again." He said to himself, grumbling under his breath. He thought he had said it soft enough for Karen to not here, but he heard her meek little voice pipe up behind him.

"I can help you, if you want, brother…" Kenny felt his heart warm at the offer, but shook his head slowly, glancing at her over his shoulder. Karen was such a sweet girl ,and such a good sister. He loved her so much it made his chest feel like it would explode and he wanted nothing more than to make sure she was healthy and happy…which was hard in this house with this disinterested family. The oldest McCormick boy was a complete waste of life, and both of their parents were no good drunken meth heads.

"No, Karen...i'll do it. You don't need to worry about it."

"but I want to." Karen pouted, pursing her lower lip out.

"no, it's fine. I can handle it." Kenny insisted, "put that lip away before you trip on it." He added, pointing his mixing spoon at her. Karen giggled at the comment and did as she was told, gently biting her upper teeth down over her bottom lip, giving a face sneer.

The water was beginning to boil just as Kenny heard a knock on the door, not just a knock but the traditional three kicks and a knock that signified "friend" rather than "foe". Knowing this difference, from the secret knock, Kenny relaxed. 'What was Kyle or Cartman doing here at dinner time' He wondered, putting down his spoon and heading for the door.

The knock was starting for the second time before he managed to get the door open, and to his surprise it wasn't Kyle nor was it Eric.

Kenny stood there with his eyes wide, stunned by the sight laid before him. Standing there in the cold evening air with one fist raised-about to knock-was the last person Kenny expected to see on his door step. By the looks of it he had been standing there for awhile, his nose was cheery red and he was shivering from the low temperature.

"…..Stan?" Kenny finally managed, looking at the taller boy with absolute shock. Stan looked back at him with a miserable haggard expression written across his face. He looked exhausted, with bags beneath his eyes and his hair a mess beneath his poof-ball hat.

"What are you doing here dude?" Kenny asked, knitting his brows together in concern. Stan just stood there with his gloved hands shove into his pockets. He didn't answer Kenny's question but instead, with chattering teeth, asked

"Can I come in?"

Kenny thought for a long moment. There were so many things he wanted to say to the other boy. Such as "No" "Fuck off" "Oh NOW you want to hang out" …but all those things just sort of faded to the back of his mind, the basketball star looked a right mess, plus, no matter how estranged they got, Stan was still one of his best friends.

"Sure, come on in…" Kenny said, stepping to the side to allow for the noirette to enter. Stan did so, stepping in slowly and carefully, each step whispering distress. Once he was fully inside Kenny shut the door and hit the latch, then turned to face the other. He was about to say something when he remembered the boiling pot of water.

"Oh shit!" he darted around Stan and flew into the kitchen just in time to see an over-boil of water spilling out onto the stove, making loud hissing noises as it splashed. He removed the pot from the stove after wrapping his hand in a moist dish towel to keep from burning himself.

"Are you wearing an apron?" Stan asked as he followed the blond into the kitchen.

"Shut up and get the pasta open." Kenny snapped, gesturing his head towards the package laying on the counter. Stan said nothing else, but did as he was asked. He moved over and ripped the package open with his teeth, handing it to Kenny before looking over his shoulder at the small girl sitting there. Karen had been staring at him since he entered the room.

"Hi, Karen." Stan said, a hint of 'awkward' in his casual. Karen's face lit up light a Christmas tree, a pink blush smearing across her face.

"H-Hi, Stan."

Stan, feeling even more awkward at this point, turned away with a strained expression. Kenny glanced at him as he shook the pasta into the water, noticing how hard he was thinking by the way his stormy blue eyes darted to everything in the room.

"Hand me the cheese." Kenny demanded, holding out his free hand while the other stirred. Stan did this as well and then stepped back from the stove, moving over to sit beside Karen at the table.

"don't know the table over, it's unstable." Kenny reminded him. Stan looked down at the makeshift fix and grinned.

"Best use of a school book I've seen in awhile, Kenny."

"I try." Kenny said, turning off the stove and spinning himself around. "Well, dinners ready…You want some, Stan?" he asked, setting it aside while be grabbed three bowls. He didn't wait for Stan to say yes before passing both him and Karen one. He then set his own at one of the empty places at the table and brought over the pot. He shoveled a few spoon full's into everyone's bowl and then returned the rest to the stove before melting down to devour his own portion.

The three of them ate in silence, but it was obvious to Kenny that Stan wanted to say something. Perhaps he wasn't speaking because of Karen's presence. He waited for him to say anything, but there was only an uncomfortable silence that rose up and hovered over them as they spooned through their meal.

Once everyone was full, and leaning back contentedly in their chairs, Kenny stood up, scooted back his chair and reached towards Stan to take his empty bowl. Stan caught his wrist and pushed it aside, with a weak, forced smile.

"No dude, let me get the dishes." And with that he also stood, and quickly swept up all three bowls, taking them to the sink. Kenny watched his back as he began to scrub at them, the hot water running overtop his hands. It was surreal, to see Stan standing there with his back to him. Was this really happening?

"I think it's time for you to get on with your homework, Karen." Kenny said, looking at his younger sister. The soft spoken girl nodded her head silently, and then scurried off, exiting the kitchen as quickly as possible. Kenny watched her go and shook his head slowly.

"She's had a crush on you since we were ten." He laughed, turning his gaze back to Stan, who gave him a confused look over the top of his right shoulder.

"Are you serious?"

"mhmm, dead serious." Kenny confirmed.

There was another drawn out silence, this one lasted until Stan finally turned off the water and returned to the table, sitting across from Kenny. Kenny let out a long breath and stared at him, waiting. Stan said nothing, but looked as if he really wanted to.

"Okay man…so what are you doing here?" Kenny asked, his gaze growing more intense. He watched as Stan's expression changed as well, growing more and more nervous. His breath was obviously quickening, and when he finally did speak his voice came out with a slight squeak.

"Kenny….I think I have a really serious problem." Stan's heart was pounding in his chest. He wanted to tell someone, needed to tell someone.

"Yeah, I know. You drink way too much. I have seen you drinking in the back of class." Kenny said, shortly.

"No. I don't mean that." Stan moaned, exasperated. Kenny folded his arms across his chest. Raising a brow up, making it disappear beneath the fringe of his bangs. What was Stan talking about…and then it dawned on him, the things that had already been passing through his mind; the things that he had noticed…

"Then what…" Kenny asked, wanting to be sure.

Stan could feel the color draining from his face. He couldn't form the words, they caught in his throat and stayed there as he stared at his friend from across the table.

"I think…..I think….."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter ^.^ please be sure to leave a comment!


	14. Chapter 14 Domestic Boys Part 2

A/N: This chapter is…intense, and deals with the subject of abuse and may be a trigger for some. Read at your own discretion

Chapter 14 (which is part 2 of chapter 13)

"Kenny….I think I have a really serious problem." Stan's heart was pounding in his chest. He wanted to tell someone, needed to tell someone.

"Yeah, I know. You drink way too much. I have seen you drinking in the back of class." Kenny said, shortly.

"No. I don't mean that." Stan moaned, exasperated. Kenny folded his arms across his chest. Raising a brow up, making it disappear beneath the fringe of his bangs. What was Stan talking about…and then it dawned on him, the things that had already been passing through his mind; the things that he had noticed…

"Then what…" Kenny asked, wanting to be sure.

Stan could feel the color draining from his face. He couldn't form the words, they caught in his throat and stayed there as he stared at his friend from across the table.

"I think…..I think….."

"You think, what?" Kenny prompted, watching as the noirettes entire form seemed to tense. He could see his palms getting sweaty from across the table, and his face flushing a dangerous shade of pink. Kenny pursed his lips and one of his blond eyebrows shot up into the fringe of his messy bangs. Why couldn't he just come out and say what was so obvious.

"…Never mind." Stan finally said, his voice coming out as a half strangled gasp. He stood up, knocking his chair into the wall behind him, making a small shelf of decorative candles shake and knock against each other. He was already rushing to the living room before Kenny even knew what was happening. By the time Kenny had the chance to get up, himself, and rush to the opening of the kitchen, Stan was already at the door fumbling with the double locks.

"Stan!" Kenny shouted after him, his face contorted in in a mix of frustration and disbelief, "come ON dude."

Stan wasn't listening, everything inside his head was screaming "." and he could do nothing else but panic. There seemed to be so much at stake here, so much on the line to loose or have thrown back in his face. He felt as if all the blood had rushed out of his face and was slowly leaking out his essence onto the floor.

Stan was desperately trying to open the locks on Kenny's front door, but his hands were shaking so much that it was nearly impossible. He managed, somehow, to get the first lock unhooked, but by this time Kenny was already upon him. The blond might have been a bit smaller that he, but was still formidably strong. So, when Kenny grabbed hold of Stan's shoulders and yanked him back from the door, he had no choice but to stumble back.

Stan was spun around and pushed forcibly up against the wall beside the door, head just barely missing the key hook. The basketball star darted his gaze to the piece of metal jutting out from the wall and his eyes widened considerably, realizing just how much that would have hurt. He had only a moment to muse about this before Kenny's hand clamped around his chin, redirecting his gaze down at him*

"Stan, what were you going to say?" he asked firmly.

"Nothing."

"Stan! WHAT were you going to say?" he repeated again with more emphasis.

"..Nothing, it's not important. I shouldn't have come here." Stan's voice cracked and his eyes seemed to glaze over. How could he have thought he could tell anyone the crazy things going on inside his head. No one would ever let him live it down. He could imagine what Kenny would say, or even worse…Cartman. All these things built up in his mind and wired his jaw shut.

Kenny wasn't going to have it. This needed to end, and it needed to end right now. He clenched his fingers into Stan's shoulders, his teeth clenched tightly together as he bore the stare from his icy blue eyes into the thick storm hews of his terrified friend.

"What the hell are you so afraid of? It's me, Kenny! I'm one of your best friends, Stan, just. !" He pulled Stan away from the wall, slightly, and then slammed him back against it in attempt to focus his attention. It seemed to work because Stan let out another heavy breath his eyes seemed to unglaze a bit.

"Stan, you haven't been to my house in weeks. You came today and now you want to leave without finishing what you came here to do. That's bull shit, just put a little trust into me, as your friend…"

Stan shut his eyes tightly, his brows knitting together and his whole face expressing deep internal turmoil. The lines in his forehead deepened as he opened his mouth to speak, looking at Kenny as if he were about to speak his last words.

"Kenny I…."

Kenny stood very still, holding his hands on Stan's shoulders still, worried that any movement he might make would break the moment and it would all come shattering down around them. He even held his breath, and refused to allow himself to blink. He could feel his own heart pounding like a hammer against his ribs.

"I…"

The hammer in Kenny's chest was mirrored by the pounding in Stan's. Somehow Kenny's grip on him was comforting, probably the only thing about the situation that brought him any relief. He had been carrying around this unspoken burden for so long. He had shoved all of his emotions, all of his feelings down a dark shaft and hidden them in that internal receptacle for as long as he could. Now they were bubbling up, refusing to be put to rest. He had to face them, he had to face everything.

"I am in love with Kyle Broflovski!"

The moment hung in the air like a loud cough. The two of them could hear the words repeat themselves in the stretch of silence. After about a minute Kenny removed his hands from Stan's shoulders and turned around, gesturing for the other boy to follow him.

"Come on then, I'll get you a beer." And with that he headed to the fridge and fetched a couple bud lights. Stan, silently, followed him and took the drink when it was offered. He sure as hell wasn't going to turn it down.

The two of them set themselves across from each other at the same table that had eaten dinner at earlier, and quietly sipped on their beer. Kenny was allowing for the words to settle, and hoped that giving Stan a little alcohol would calm his over firing nerves. Once he himself was down to his drinks half way point he finally spoke up.

"Well then, lets talk." Kenny said, "Now that you've finally said it out loud."

"Finally said it out loud…what do you mean?" Stan asked, his eyes shooting up to look at the blond while he ran his thumb over the rim of his can.

"I mean, I already had a pretty good hunch that this was what was going on. You ditching out on all of us. You isolating yourself…" Kenny took another sip of his beer.

Stan said nothing, he just continued to look at Kenny, a frown carved into his face. When he finally did speak his voice was tight and hoarse.

"Kenny…what am I supposed to do? I can't tell Kyle, I can't tell anyone…hell it took me until now to be able to tell you, what if Cartman found out-please don't tell Eric." Stan pleaded.

"I'm not going to tell Eric, geez…." Kenny tilted his head, flipping his bangs from his eyes, "but you need to come to terms with these feelings, Stan…look at what you've been doing to yourself because of them." He pointed out, tilting his drink in Stan's direction, shaking it a few times. "I feel like I'm aiding in your bad habit just giving you a beer."

Stan scowled at this. He didn't want to talk about his drinking. He didn't really want to talk about Kyle either, but he had needed to get this of his chest, it had begun to eat him alive from the inside out. Now he wasn't sure what to do.

"You know, Kyle thinks that you are going to Craig's party with Wendy." Kenny said, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Maybe I should, maybe if I got back together with Wendy these feelings would go away." Stan said, the pleading still evident in his voice.

"Well, that obviously didn't work last time, Stan." Kenny's expression remained neutral.

"Yeah but….damn it….FUCK" Stan slammed his fist down on the table, hard, and immediately the whole structure gave way. The tables already precarious position slipped, the gimp leg slid from off the top of the books Kenny had stacked beneath, and it fell in a heap. The two boys looked down on it. Stan blushed furiously, embarrassed and apologetic. Kenny just rolled his eyes and stood up, leaving the table where it lie.

"Alright, that's it. Come on." He said, rounding the collapsed mass, and grabbed Stan by the shirt, yanking him along. Stan could only stumble out of his chair and follow.

"What are you doing?" Stan yelped

"We're going to go tell Kyle." Kenny said, not slowing down.

"NO! NO NO NO! KENNY, NO, Damn it!" Stan dug his heels into the carpet of the living room and refused to budge any further.

"Come on Stan. This has gone on too long. You NEED to tell him how you are feeling!" Kenny let go of Stan and turned to face him, his hands raised in exasperation.

"I can't, Kenny! I just can't! He's my best friend!" Stan begged, his form seeming to shrink as he folded in on himself.

"Um..last time I checked you two don't even talk anymore. So what do you have to loose?" Kenny asked, his voice raising in volume as he grew more and more frustrated.

"Yeah but…"

"But nothing, You are either going to never talk to him again because you're going to avoid him the rest of your life…Or You are going to not ever going to talk to him again because he's all freaked out about your feelings….OR. Maybe. He actually feels the same way, ever think about that?" Kenny shouted, not bothering to control his voice any longer. Stan shrank back more, looking as if he were on the verge of tears.

Seeing him in such a pathetic state made Kenny check himself. He forced a palm to his forehead and took a deep breath. How was he going to make Stan see that running away and hiding from everyone to avoid his feelings wasn't going to help him.

Stan took in a few deep breaths before moving over to the couch and letting himself collapse down onto the cushions, shoving his face into his hands. He rubbed his palms across his face and then carded his fingers up into his dark hair, staring at the floor. Kenny moved to sit beside him and laid a hand on his back, trying to give some semblance of comfort.

"I'm gay…and I am in love with my best friend." Stan said, the words coming out as if he himself hardly believed they were true. He was obviously judging himself, it was written all over him. Kenny let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his back, thinking of what to say.

"So what, dude?" He finally managed, "So what if you're gay. And so What if you love Kyle ,that's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm the fucking basketball star for God sake! I'm supposed to dating someone like Bebe, or Wendy and instead I'm pining after Kyle."

"Well actually, a lot of people are pining after Kyle. He's kind of wanted by just about everyone, even the straight guys. Hell, even I have had a few fantasies about that hot Jewish piece of a-" Kenny stopped himself, clearing his throat as he noticed Stan staring daggers at him. He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck, "Um…never mind…heh heh…"

Stan tightened his lips in a straight line and looked up at the ceiling, as if praying. "I don't know what I would do if someone else got to be with him and I had to sit back and watch that. I thought that if I kept myself away from him these feelings would go away, but they just keep getting worse and worse."

Keny watched Stan closely, watching the contortion of his features when he expressed how much he didn't want to see Kyle with someone else. He didn't want to see him with someone else but he wasn't brave enough to go after him himself.

"Well, Stan…to be honest, if you don't get those feelings to Kyle soon…someone else is going to scoop him up before you get your chance…and there are a lot worse people out there that he could date…a lot worse."

Not too far away, Kyle was sitting at his desk, finishing a bowl of fresh strawberries as he did his homework. There was a sharp sound snapping through the relative silence as a rock was tossed against his window.


	15. Chapter 15 Love and Modern Warfare

A/N I am so happy to see that this story is growing more popular! I want to welcome all the new readers and thank those who have been waiting for this next chapter. I have been growing more and more fond of this story with every chapter I write and am excited to present this next one. Please leave a comment if you enjoy this chapter!

Kyle dropped his head down onto his open history book, and groaned, sliding his fingers up into his mass of red curls. He rubbed his hands forward and back, trying desperately to scrub the boredom from his mind with physical exfoliation. It wasn't as if homework was usually hard for him, but tonight he really could imagine a million different things he would rather be doing. Sure, he might have possibly been the smartest kid in his grade, but if you looked at his competition, mainly Tolken, then it wasn't hard to see why he was revered as being so smart. It wasn't just his grades either. Kyle has a set moral code that left most kids his age in the dust. He had an understanding of the world and the things going on in it that far surpassed his age group. He was in three advanced placement classes and had a near stellar resume that would take him to any college in the country he wanted to go to.

However, despite all of these things, and all of his awards and prestigious titles…Kyle really didn't feel much like homework tonight. He was lounging around in his boxers, something he did quite often. He didn't really expect to have anyone come over or to be invited to go anywhere, after all it wasn't like Stan was going to show up to whisk him away on some fun adventure. He was idly flipping through the pages of his civics book when his expectations for the afternoon were shattered. A rock was thrown at his window. At first, Kyle thought it might had been a bird, and shrugged it off, but a second rock blame hurling at the glass only a moment later, so hard he was surprised it didn't crack it.

"What the fuck…" Kyle growled as he pushed himself out of his chair. He hadn't had someone throw rocks at his window in…well…since Stan he and Stan had stopped talking. It couldn't be…

Kyle felt his chest tighten, his heart doing a back-flip. He pressed his palms and then his nose into the glass and peered downward. Could it really be Stan? Nope. Disappointment. His face fell, the eager smile melting away as quickly as it had come. Of all the people, it just had to be Cartman, didn't it. The sometimes friend sometimes enemy was standing beneath his window with both hands shoved into his pockets, looking up through a fringe of brown hair. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his face expressionless.

Kyle unlatched the lock on his window and then forced it open with a grunt. He stuck his head out and was immediately bombarded with a frigid cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, his bare torso no match for the bitter weather. He was suddenly painfully aware of his near nakedness, and the way his auburn coils bounced against his ears, uncombed and flexing their tenability. He knew he looked a mess, which if it had been Stan might have been a bit more of an issue( this was a thought that passed so quickly through his mind he didn't even catch it), but it wasn't Stan, no…it was Eric Cartman.

"What the fuck do you want, Fat-Ass?" Kyle yelled down at him, making sure his voice expressed his disdain of his presence.

"Shut up and let me in you Filthy Jew, it's fuckin freezing." Eric snapped. Kyle rolled his eyes and then drew himself back inside, shutting the window afterwards. He turned around and headed for the drawer, searching for something to wear. He grabbed a bright red t-shirt, the one that said "Go, Cows!" three times on the back, progressively getting bigger as the words ascended. He liked the little cow's head logo on the right breast, and enjoyed wearing the shirt when he felt like he could be extra casual. He then snagged the pair of faded jeans that he had folded and set on his bed earlier and slid himself inside them. He pulled up the zipper and hooked the button, making sure to take a nice slow laborious time so that he could make Cartman wait as long as possible.

When Kyle finally opened the door to let Eric in, the other bow was standing on the doorstep, with his teeth gritted together in a snarl, and his arms wrapped around himself as he shook. He glared at Kyle for only a second before forcing his way past him, nudging his shoulder into the smaller boy, knocking him to the side.

"What took you so God Damned long? I'm freezing my nut sack off!"

"…pleasant image," Kyle grumbled, shutting and locking the door before turning, "so, what do you want Eric?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking at the fat kid as if his presence alone was enough to exhaust him.

"Kenny wouldn't answer my texts." Cartman responded simply.

"…And?"

"And so…and so I'm bored!" He snapped.

Kyle blinked a few times and then dropped his arms from his chest, giving a heavy, exasperated sigh. He walked past Eric and plopped down on the floor in front of the television, beginning a slow search through the games he had stacked inside the cabinet.

"Alright, fine, whatever. What do you want to play?" He asked, fingering through the first person shooter section of his well-organized set of games. Cartman took a few steps towards the Jew and then stopped.

"I don't feel like playing video games." He said shortly. Kyle looked up at him, sitting back on his heels. He huffed.

"O…K….well then what do YOU want to do?" he asked, knowing that whatever it was it probably involved something he didn't want to do himself.

"I want to go light off a shit load of fireworks in Stan's mailbox." Cartman said shortly.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"Come on, Kenny would do it with me!" Cartman goaded

"No! Fuck that dude, I'm not doing that."

"Pansy." Cartman turned himself around and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. Kyle narrowed his eyes at him and turned back to the video games.

"Come on, let just play Modern Warfare or something. It will be fun."

"Got any potato chips?" Cartman asked, although it was more of a demand. Kyle tossed the modern warfare box case at Cartman's feet and stood up.

"Fine. I'll get you some fucking potato chips. YOU put the game in." and with that Kyle tromped off to the kitchen, already feeling annoyed. Cartman watched him go, standing in the middle of the room with a bitterness in his center. That stupid fucking Jewish Dog…why did everyone just loose it over the kid? There wasn't anything special about him. He was small, wimpy looking, curly red hair, freckles, long legs, bright clear green eyes, straight even teeth, a lean rock hard body. Cartman felt a headache coming on. He pressed his fingers to his temples.

"Here are your potato chips. You fat fuck." Kyle pushed a bag of ruffles against Cartman's shoulder. Eric reached up and snatched them, plucking them from the red head's hands and flipping his hand over to shove a rude gesture in his face.

"Thanks, rat."

The two of them plopped themselves down on the couch after Cartman loaded up the game and the two of them proceeded to take out their will to pound each other into dust out on the fictional characters on the television screen. They played for over an hour, non-stop before Eric decided they should put their head set's on.

"GAHAHA! I just shot that rocket directly into your face!" Cartman roared, "Kyle go pick that pack up and meet me around that building to the right."

"Fine, but give me a second, I'm gunna snipe this guy….IKE MOVE!" Kyle shouted as Ike, his little brother stepped in front of the TV screen. Ike stood there, his brows furrowed and his lower lip puckered out.

"Kyle! Those were my chips, why did you give them to your stupid fat friend?" Ike whined, pounding one foot down hard, shaking the 360 console so bad it fell over, and the sound of the disc bouncing against the holder was glaringly evident.

"Ike you big baby! Look what you did!" Kyle threw his control down onto the couch next to Cartman and stood up, advancing on his little brother with a vengeance. Ike's brown eyes widened in horror as he looked from the Xbox to his brothers looming figure. After a moment of though he darted for the stairs he managed to escape just outside the reach of his older brothers fingers and shot up towards his room, leaving Kyle fuming at the bottom of the steps.

Kyle curled his hands around the sides of his mouth and screamed up after 'the little brat', "MOM, Ike's being a big fat baby again! He knocked over my xbox!"

"He started it!" Ike screamed from his bedroom.

There was a long stretch of silence and then a voice could be heard from their parents room.

"Be nice to your little brother, bubbie."

Kyle threw up his hands and spun on his heels, giving up. When he spun, to his surprise Cartman was no longer on the couch, instead he was standing directly behind him. So close in fact that when he turned he bumped directly into him, bouncing back a half inch before looking up at him with a surprised expression staining his face.

"..Eric" He blinked those large emerald eyes and stood there, staring. Eric really wasn't that fat anymore, sure he was large, and yeah he had a bit of a belly but what he had just bounced off of had been sheer muscle built up from football practice. No matter what way Kyle twisted it, Eric was stronger than him, and by a pretty big margin too.

Eric lifted his hand up into the small space that separated them, a shiny round disk perched on his index finger. One of his dark eyebrows shot up into his bangs in that characteristic way, and a smirk pulled up the left corner of his mouth. Kyle hated that expression and he wasn't sure why, perhaps it was because it seemed to spring up on the neo-Nazi's face every time he won, or thought he had won something. Kyle's face flushed a subtle shade of pink

"I got your disk," Cartman said, his voice an octave lower than usual…how did he even notice that Cartman's voice was an octave lower, since when did he ever listen that closely to Eric's voice enough to recognize it's usual pitch. Silly, he had just been around him so much over the past month that he was noticing things more, "…Kyle." Eric's brow raised a bit more as Kyle stared at the him. The gingers blush deepened slightly, becoming more obvious.

"Yes?" Kyle responded, sleepily.

"…Are you going to take your disk?" There was a note of something in Eric's voice, something on the verge of amusement. Kyle snapped out of his momentary daze and snatched the disc off of Cartman's fingers, pushing past him with fervor, clearing his throat and dropping down to his knees beside his xbox, looking at it like a fallen friend.

"I swear to Jehovah, if that little needle dicked brat broke this, I'm going to go into his room and destroy everything that he owns."

Cartman stood where Kyle had pushed him, watching the other boy with a hunger slowly building in his brain. His eyes narrowed as he let his eyes take in the delicate frame kneeling in front of him, observing it as if a light had just been turned on inside his core, seeing things he had never noticed before…or at least had never acknowledged that he noticed. He saw Kyle reach out towards his console and focused on the hem of Kyle's shirt slipping up off the waistband of his jeans, exposing a stretch of porcelain flesh and two distinct auburn dots, freckles he had never noticed before. He was suddenly struck with the urge to find more of them, just how many did he have scattered across his back, and if he looked would he find them other places to?

Almost everyone Cartman knew wanted to touch that milky back. Almost everyone he knew wanted to slide their arms around that lean frame. He knew, he was always watching. He was the cool calculating type and he watched everyone, how else would he know how to exploit them for his own gain? Now he himself had joined the ranks, but his fantasies were far darker, far more sinister. He wanted to destroy this beautiful thing, and he had a pretty good idea of how to do it.


	16. Chapter 16 Eric Plots

A/N: Every time I look back through this story I get so frustrated with all the typos and first draft mistakes. I wanted to thank everyone who has stuck through this and has enjoyed this rough copy of the story, over looking all the silly typos/errors/fuckits. Anyways, I am beginning to see some really cool stuff coming up soon. The drama has just begun.

"Welcome home, smookiekins," Liane Cartman called from the kitchen as she heard the front door open. She set down the dish she was watching and hastened to the refrigerator. Her hands shook as she pulled out the surprise she had made for her favorite, and only son. Her face was one that might have been beautiful once, but stress and years had stretched her features, making her look dull and tired.

Stacked on a large plate were six sugar drenched pancakes, soaked in rich syrup, "I made you breakfast for dinner, your favorite!"

She balanced the lovingly prepared display on her arm and turned towards the archway that leads into the living room. She peered around the wall, smiling nervously. She knew Eric, her little smookie kins, was probably going to be furious with her. It was a usual motif, and this time seemed unavoidable no matter how many powdered pancake surprises she made for him. Yet still, she made them.

She had taken a client home today. She had lead him up the stairs, took him into her room, and let him choose which lingerie he liked best out of her top drawer. The session had run far later than she had anticipated. She had checked earlier to see if the money she had left for her son under that door mat hat been taken. Seeing that it was in fact gone told her what she would be in for when he finally came back home. In a desperate attempt to buy back is favor she had prepared the tantalizing dessert.

"Oh! Eric, I didn't know you would be bringing home one of your little friends. I would have made more food." She felt her heart sink. Any chance she had of gaining her son's forgiveness right off the bat was swept away with this moment. She knew that failing to prepare enough food would be the crowning glory of her failures in Eric's eyes.

"Oh that's okay Miss Cartman, I've already eaten." Kyle said, following Eric's lead as the larger boy tossed his book-bag down beside the door. Unlike Eric, however, he turned and removed his shoes, setting them neatly beside his pack. Once this was done he returned to full height and stretched his shoulder's back, hearing a few loud pops as his spire readjusted itself.

Eric noticed this, watching Kyle with mild disgust. He could never show so much…respect. It seemed almost weak to him. No, not almost, it was weakness. It was just Kyle and his stupid morals again. Once the novelty of this passed the larger boy stomped over to his mother and snatched the plate from her hands. He then spun on his heels and plopped down in the center of the couch.

He set the plate on his lap and began picking at it with his fingers. He pinched off a piece and shoved it into his mouth chewing. She forgot the chocolate syrup…Cartman's eyes shot to his mother, narrowing. His face scrunched up and his cheeks flushed a bit as he prepared to unleash a hell storm upon her. One more thing building up on the stack of anger that had been growing larger since he had first come home to find himself locked out.

"Eric, you said you had the new Terence and Phillip video, right?" Kyle asked, seeing the pressure behind Eric's eyes begin to reach boiling point. He quickly slid onto the couch beside him, doing his best to distract him away from his Mother with a broad grin. He felt sorry for Miss Cartman, she not only had to deal with Eric… she had to love him. What a huge pain in the ass that had to be. Sure, he himself had to deal with Cartman on a regular basis, considering they were some weird hybrid of a friend to each other, but his mother had to live with him. That was something he couldn't even fathom. No wonder she was such a hallow broken shell of a woman.

Kyle eyed Eric, seeing simmering rage flicker out, and his attention redirected. Miss Cartman was safe, for now. Seeing her chance to escape the petite dark hair woman, so different from her son, disappeared quickly back into the kitchen with a sigh of relief. Kyle watched after her, wondering how she had given birth to such a massive child. Eric dwarfed his mother twice over.

Looking back at Cartman, Kyle's dewy eyes widened. There was something written on the bigots face that was quite rare. Pain, and suddenly the red head felt a surge of guilt wrestle it's way through his gut. He wasn't sure why it was there, but the look was unmistakable. Eric's dark brows were knitted together, and his lips were pulled down at the corners, but only slightly.

The truth was that Eric really was hurt. He was embarrassed by his mothers line of work, and he was aware that everyone in town knew what she did. Fucking prostitute, whore, slut. All these things flashed through his mind, mounting that anger that was held just beneath his surface. Eric was a constantly ticking time bomb of domestic rage.

The majority of the expression was held captive in Eric's eyes. They were so shiny they looked as if they were building tears. He could see Eric's fists were clenched also. It made Kyle's chest hurt. He couldn't help it, he had an over active conscience and he felt, somehow, that Eric looking so sad had something to do with him, no matter how much of an ass hole he was. Seeing just how pathetic he could look made him feel a bit sorry for him.

"Eric…are you okay?" Kyle asked, staring at him. Eric sucked in a breath and wrinkled his nose. He had been thinking about his mother, and earlier that day. He was thinking back to how many times he had walked in to a house full of moans, a different male voice every week. That sort of thing had happened all the time before his mother had finally gotten the good sense to lock him out whenever there was someone with her.

Eric shot Kyle a look, seeing those green eyes sweetened by concern. He couldn't help but feel empowered. He rarely could get sympathy from the Jew, but it was simply in the other boy's nature. Kyle had these pervasive morals that drove Eric crazy. Why anyone would want to live by such a ridged code, he hadn't the slightest. However, this being true it did offer up a whole lot of opportunities for a guy like him to exploit and manipulate, it made Kyle predictable.

"Mmhmm," Eric said, standing up and walking over to the television, "Let me just get you the movie." He said, flicking through his DVD's.

"Good because I promise Kenny I would bring it by his house sometime this week, before the party." He really didn't want to know all of Eric's hidden pains, and was thankful to have an excuse to get the hell out of there. Kyle flipped his phone open to check the time. The screen was black. He punched a couple buttons to no avail, "Fuck, my phone died….Eric, could you call Kenny and let him know I'm coming over to give him the movie?"

Eric pulled the movie case away from the others and passed it to Kyle, shrugging as he did so, "Sure, whatever." He then moved to collapse back onto the couch where he had been before. Kyle remained next to him for a few more seconds, looking the movie case over, opening it, checking the disc, and then finally got up to leave.

"Well then, I guess I will be going. Don't forget to call Kenny." Eric honed his eyes on the Jew, and Kyle could see something dark writhing behind them. He suddenly felt a chill run through him, and all the hairs on his arms stood up at once. Something wasn't right, something was telling him that Cartman was scheming.

"I won't." Eric said simply, turning away from Kyle, excusing him from his house with a wave of his hand before digging into his pancake dinner. He glanced after Kyle as the boy turned and exited his house. He watched him cross the plane of the window and disappear. Once he saw that he was gone Eric pulled out his phone and hit the home button, thumbing through the numbers until he came to Kenny's.

After dialing, it rang only twice before Kenny answered it:

"Hello, Friend." Kenny piped, dryly.

Cartman was about to respond when he heard something strange in the background.

"Kenny, where is my shirt?"

"I don't know, look under the bed." Kenny said, "Oh, Stan it's right here." There was a rustling and then a, "thanks, dude."

Cartman's eyes lit up. His stomach did a summersault and he felt elation climbing up his spine. Stan was over at Kenny's house. Stan was over at Kenny's house, without his shirt. One step further even-Stan was over at Kenny's house, without his shirt, without Kyle. Oh, this was just too good.

"Cartman, what the fuck do you want?" Kenny asked. Eric cleared his throat, he must have taken too long to respond. He did some quick thinking and then composed himself, swallowing his glee.

"I was just calling to ask if you had some notes from Math." Cartman's voice dripped with sugar. Kenny was silent for a minute before finally speaking.

"No, why the fuck would you think I have notes, I don't take notes. Dude, I have NEVER taken notes.*hiccup*"

"Oh, that's right, I must have forgotten. Never mind then…are you drunk?" Eric asked, hearing the poor boys words slurring together.

"Mehbeh…mehbeh a little bit…HAHAHA" Kenny's laughter exploded against the receiver and Eric had to pull the phone away from his ear. He would have pulled it away from his face at any rate because he was grinning so loudly that he thought maybe Kenny or even Stan would be able to hear his exuberant glee.

"Kenny, give me my shirt!" Stan yelled from somewhere in the background.

"Well you have fun." and with that Eric clicked the 'end call' button, hanging up on him with a wide grin on his face. Kenny and Stan, Drunk and shirtless…and Kyle was headed over there right now.

Kyle reached up his hands and curled his fingers into the wings of his ushanka, tugging them down, more firmly, over his ears. He allowed a gut wrenching shiver to flow through his body in reaction to the bitter cold that surged around him. Colorado night was coming. He could feel the heat of the sun waning and could see the tendrils of night clawing their way up from behind the mountain peaks.

He checked to make sure that Eric's movie was still secured in his coat pocket and then settled into a light jog. He settled his arms into rhythmic movement, one on either side, elbows bent, and let his long legs stretch and pull him along at a steady pace. His breath puffed from mouth in opaque clouds and the zen of running took him over. He loved running, he loved the way everything around just dissipated.

Kenny's house was not too far away, but it was the furthest away from Cartman's house, specifically. He would have to pass his own house, and then Stan's house and then he would find Kenny's just passed that. He ran further than this during track. The difference was he usually didn't run this late in the afternoon, when the temperature began to drop.

Once he saw Kenny's house come into view, he stopped running, feeling the deep burn in his calves that made running so addicting. His whole body felt loose and the stress of the day seemed to have melted away. He could walk now, adrenaline and endorphins rushing through him. He crossed the yard and headed for the door.

He tried the knob, jiggling it a few times. It was locked. He lifted his hand to his mouth and yanked his glove off with his teeth before trying the door again. Nope, still no good. He sighed and pulled his glove back on and stepped over to the window. It was easy to reach it because Kenny's parents hadn't made any effort to landscape the front of their house, there was only dirt and a couple weeds that had withstood the cold weather.

Despite the clear pathway Kyle caught his foot on a rock, stumbling forward a bit. He caught himself on the window sill, his elbow snagging on an uneaven brick. The fabric of his jacket ripped, exposing the white installation.

"Fuck…" Kyle grumbled, fingering at the tear. It wasn't too bad, his mom could probably stitch it for him if he asked.

He was half distracted when he looked up. He was still thinking about the rip in his coat when he caught sight of the two boys inside. At first his eyes didn't register the scene, but after a moment they widened in disbelief. Kenny was there, sprawled out on the couch. One of the blonds long legs draped over the edge of the cushions, dangling down towards the floor and his opposite arm was flung along the back rise. A half drank bottle of Jamison sung haphazardly from his fingers.

His shirt was off, and his lean muscles were displayed starkly beneath the single artificial light, making him look ghostly pale. Bruises lined his side, it always seemed like he was sporting some sort of wound. This time they were a mix of ghastly purple rimmed with a sickly shade of yellow. His hair was tousled and a flush had taken full control of his face. These things alone were not what surprised Kyle. What surprised him was the other lounging on the couch with him.

Stan was obviously drunk. His head was flung back in mid laugh, the depth of which was rocking his whole body, which made his bare torso clench, each muscle firing in the spasm. His head than rolled to the side, gaze fixing on Kenny. The two of them seemed deep in conversation, Kenny's shoulder lurched upwards at the command of his hand which slapped the noirette across the shoulder playfully. His fingers lingered a moment too long

Kyle could feel his inside curling around themselves, and he became suddenly very aware of the chill in the air. He felt immediately ill. Closing his eyes he turned away, rolling to against the wall he stared off into the darkening twilight. His breath came in heavy gasps as he wrapped his arms around himself. So many things bombarded his mind that he couldn't focus on a single one of them. He had to get out of there.

He turned back around one more time, teeth gritted together. He watched as Stan leaned towards Kenny, practically falling over him trying to grab the liquor bottle. Both of them still laughing and having a good time. Stan could have a good time with Kenny… but not a good time with him. Stan could get half naked with Kenny, but couldn't even spare him the time of day.

Kyle swatted the glass in front of him hard, making a loud thumb before using the same hand push off from the window. In a surge of undefinable emotions he bolted away from the upsetting scene. He wanted to run. He wanted to run away and never stop. He sucked in huge gulps of cold air and felt the icy wind cut through him like a knife. He welcomed the burning in his lungs and in his muscles. He begged for the sensations to make him forget, distract him somehow.

Inside the house Kenny and Stan sat up straight, startled by the sudden loud noise that came from the front of the house. Stan dropped his hand away from the bottle of Jamison and directed his attention to the window just in to see the back of a green ushanka darting off into the growing darkness. His face contorted in confusion.

"…Kyle?" he voiced, in disbelief. What the hell was Kyle doing there, and why was he running off like that. He then looked down at himself, and then at Kenny, and something clicked in the back of his mind. Kenny was still staring out the window, mouth partially agape.

"damn it, Stan!" Kenny smacked his on forehead with his hand and pressed his splayed fingers back into his mass of blond hair. Of course Kyle would be mad, he was hanging out with his best friend when he hadn't been able to make any leeway in rekindling their lost friendship.

"What they hell…what?" Stan asked, looking completely confused, and far too drunk to process what had just happened. He sat there with a stiff back, looking from Kenny to the window and back again. His dazed expression a monument to the few passed moments.

"Dude, Stan…that was Kyle." Kenny shouted, pointing at the door.

"Well…why did he run off?" Stan asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to comprehend that awareness he had come to earlier. He glanced back down at himself and his eyes widened.

"Stan! Go after him!" Kenny demanded, throwing him his shirt. He knew that he and Stan hadn't been up to anything…funny. They were just catching up, getting drunk ,reveling in being near each other after all this time but…how could Kyle NOT be jealous, whether or not he and Stan had done anything. Who knew what he was thinking, but whatever it was, couldn't be good. "Get the fuck out there, and go after him!"

"I…." Stan's heart leaped up into his throat. He stared at the door with wide stunned eyes, "I….I can't." he said, his voice coming out strangled and stifled.

"Stan…" Kenny's own heart sank. "Stan…you fuck, you have to." Kenny stood up, his fists clenched at his side. Stan watched him with that deer in head lights expression. His gaze pleaded with the blond. He couldn't go, he just couldn't. What would he say.

Kenny lurched forward and moved behind Stan and began forcefully pushing the other boy toward the door. Stans heels dug into the carpet. The shoves from his smaller friend were surprisingly strong, nearly knocking him over. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the doorframe.

"No Kenny! No!"

It was too late. Kenny reached around him and flung open the door, and thrust him out. Without another word he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving a very dazed Stan standing on the stoop. He wheeled around and banged his fists against the door.

"Kenny you can't just leave me out here you Fucker!" He brayed, leaping off the stood down on the other side of the window. He glared at his friend, who was already back to lounging on the couch, the bottle turned upwards against his lips. Kenny's other hand came up to sport the middle finger at him.

"That Piece of Shit." Stan growled. He turned himself around and leaned his back against the window, shoving both hands deep into his pockets. He dropped his head, eyes closing tightly. He couldn't believe this. He was way too drunk to deal with this shit. The only up side was that he had managed to drink enough to keep the cold at bay. However, when he opened his eyes he could see a gush of white breath billowing from his lips, and behind it, laying in the dirt something small and red.

Stan tilted his head to the side, blinking once before crouching down to look at it. It took him a moment to register what it was he was looking at. It all came back to him however, after all he had seen It many times before.

He reached his hand down and curled his finger around it, almost in disbelief. Kyle's inhaler. He rolled it over in his palm, staring at the letters marked in the side with permanent marker, K.B. Still staring at it intently, he stood. His drunken brain turned this information over, struggling to reach a conclusion. His eyes raised and peered out into the darkness that had now swallowed the street. Kyle was out there, in the cold and in the dark. Stan felt his whole body tremble at the thought. Kyle was out there, without his inhaler.


	17. Chapter 17 Breathless

A/N: Hello everyone. Here's chapter 17 :D. The Party is fast approaching and things are starting to heat up! I hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment! I will be sure to post the next chapter when I get 3 new reviews.

The chilled night air gushed down Stan throat as he ran. It burned, searing his lungs and making his chest clench. He had a lot of stamina, thanks to basketball practice, and yet still it hurt to inhale this bitter freeze. He couldn't imagine how Kyle would be handling the weather, especially if he was running, and from what he knew about Kyle, he mostly likely was. Kyle liked to run everywhere, it was always painful for Stan to watch just how much energy the little ginger kid had. Of course, those times Kyle had always had his inhaler, this time he would…and probably wouldn't realize until too late.

Stan picked up his pace, leaping over a felled trash can that had fallen over and spilled it's contents all across the sidewalk in front of the Stotch house. He head something rustling in it, and glanced back just in time to see a large raccoon dating from inside the plastic container and out into the road. He refocused his eyes back to front and kicked his speed into the next gear. He needed to keep his eyes open, needed to keep a look out for "….Kyle!"

There he was, lying on the side walk about twenty feet away. If Stan hadn't been looking for him specifically, it would have been near impossible to tell what that raised lump on the ground was from this distance. Stan kicked his speed up another notch as he hurled himself towards his fallen friend.

"Kyle! Kyle!" He called out as he neared. There was no response, and the form wasn't moving. He skidded to a halt at the side of him and looked down with his hands raised out in front of him, unsure exactly what to do. He didn't remember just how much alcohol he had consumed until he came to a stop, his head suddenly bubbling up and spinning inside his skull. His heavy breathing put a strain on his gut and he lifted the back of his hand to his mouth, feeling as if he might vomit.

He gasped in the shadow of the fir tree that stood sentry just a few feet away. He cursed himself silently for being so weak. Every moment he spent hacking up a lung was another moment Kyle lay motionless on the cold sidewalk. It took him several long minutes to finally purge himself of a good amount of the alcohol he had consumed, and when he forced himself back around to face his next duty, his skin looked pallid and his eyes seemed deep set in dark circles.

He dropped down to his knees in front of the huddled mass and put his hands on it. He caught Kyle's shoulder and pushed it, rolling the boy over onto his back. Kyle was the strangest mix of colors. His cheeks were flushed pink but the rest of his face had taken on a bluish tent, making his freckles stand out like bright red dots. It wasn't the most flattering look for the attractive seventeen year old, but that was the least on Stan's mind. He quickly fumbled through his pocket, ripping the inhaler from then and shoved it against Kyle's mouth as he pushed his other hand down along his back, lifting him partially up off the ground.

"Hang on, Kyle!" Stan pleaded. He smashed the button down on the little device and it fired, but there was no move from Kyle to take in the help. He wasn't able to use it. He threw it down hard, in panic and without having much time to think on it he buckled over top his friend. One hand lifted up on the redhead's chin and the other clapped down on his nose. His stillness was terrifying.

Stan's lips crushed down over top Kyle's, and he began to slowly push air into his lungs. Kyle's chest expanded in response. Stan lifted up, gasping for breath and then pressed down once more, gushing breath into the still body of his estranged friend. Once again Kyle's chest expanded and then there was movement.

Kyle flailed, jerking away from Stan. He rolled over, gasping against the side walk, hand raising to his throat, as he coughed. He took in drafts of air, thrashing, the breaths entering him in ragged shaky gusts. The color was beginning to fill back in his face but he still looked as though he was suffering. His breaths were very obviously shallow.

Stan fumbled for the inhaler he had tossed against the sidewalk. It had bounced and rolled a few feet away, lying starkly against the cement. He strained for it, finally feeling himself gather it in his fingers. He then slipped an arm beneath Kyle's shoulder and yanked him up off the ground, gritting his teeth in concentration.

Focused on rescue, Stan tugged the boy to his chest and anchored him there as his other hand brought the inhaler to the gasping boys lips. Lifting Kyle took hardly any effort at all, keeping him there was the difficult part. He quickly shoved his finger against the back of the device, hearing it fire and watched Kyle's chest suddenly inflate in response. Kyle squirmed in his grasp, writhing as he tried level out his breath, his length bending and stretching as a product of panic, the bottoms of his shoes digging into the concrete, his form pressing back against Stan as if he were trying to escape some oppressive force.

It took several minutes for things to calm. The two sat their, clinging to each other in the dark. The only illumination now was a street light down a quarter of a block, and the moon above them, that shown bright as a claw like sickle. It didn't take long, however, for Kyle's gasps to turn into sobs. The boy rolled over in his friends arms and buried his face in his coat. Stan looked down, stunned and shell shocked, at the mess of auburn hair in his lap.

At first Stan kept his grip firm in Kyle's coat, but when the boy rolled over in his grasp he raised his hands as if unsure if touching him was allowed. They hovered above the curled up form until he heard definite sniffles. He carded the splayed fingers of one hand into the red curls, and wrapped his other arm around him in a desperate attempt to comfort him. There was nothing else he could do but wait for the tears to stop.

They didn't stop, for a long while, even when Kyle finally sat up, rubbing his jade eyes on his sleeve, smearing tears across his face. His nose had blossomed a rosy pink and the color had already trekked across the youths cheeks, making him look vulnerable. Kyle took huge breaths, thankful for the feel of air traveling down into his lungs. He used these breaths to calm himself, but he was very clearly still shaking all over.

Stan remained silent, staring at Kyle as if perhaps he were not real. Stan was just going to wake up back in his room, laying on his bed in his underwear. But in truth he wasn't going to wake up, he really was here in the middle of the sidewalk with the one person that could affect him the deepest of them all, and he had just saved his life…for the second time. It was as if fate was hurling them together again and again, demanding that Stan succumb to his transparent desires.

Kyle glanced up at Stan as he ran his sleeve over his nose again, sniffling. He looked away quickly as their eyes met, his pink blush evolving into a deeper shade.

"Thank you, Stan…again."

Stan felt a blush rising on his own face to match Kyles, his heart back flipping when their eyes met for that split second. Stan's breath left him, stolen away by that single moment. He was thinking back, realizing that he had pressed his lips to Kyles in an attempt to resuscitate him. His lips suddenly began to tingle. He raised fingers to them, touching them lightly as he stared at a dark spot on the side walk.

"It was nothing…" Stan gushed, his voice husky, and half breathless.

"No, no, it really is something…this is the second time you've saved my life," Kyle's green eyes raised, trying to catch Stan's stormy blue ones. After inhaling a deep breath Stan gained the courage to lift his as well, meeting Kyle's hypnotic stare. There was a growing magnetic pull that bubbled up between them, their bodies angled in towards each other, an impossibly strong pull demanding them to lean in closer as they exchanged their words.

Stan could see the light glossy of moisture that slicked Kyle's bottom lip, the wetness of them betrayed by the moonlight. His pale skin seemed to glow radiantly under it's silvery pulse. He had never seem the red head look more incredible than he did right then; The gentle curve of his neck, which was tilted to the left, exposing the elegant line of his clavicle. The way his freckles stood out beneath his eyes, eyes that caught the light, refracted it, and then tossed it back out into the world with an ethereal gleam unmatched by anything the noirette had ever seen, was almost magical. There were shadows, yes, but even the addition of these, cast across his brow, only enhanced the overall effect of the spell the small Jewish boy was casting at that moment, without even knowing it.

Kyle was too busy looking at Stan to notice the way his body softened in the others presence, a reaction to the spool of thoughts churning in his brain. Stan, his hero, looked so strong, so solid, like an immovable force. He would stand to be that if he raised his hands and pressed them to Stan's broad chest, that he wouldn't move an inch no matter how hard he pushed, and he wanted to put his hands on him. He wanted to thank him with more than just his words, he wanted Stan to accept, to throw his arms around him and hold him close, protecting him. He felt so fragile beneath the tormented stormy sea of the larger boy's eyes.

The magic was interment by a single thought that threaded it's way through both parties, digging in deep and suffocating the electricity as it was shared by them both. _What if he rejects me?_ For Kyle, It was as if Stan would be able to crush him-For Stan it was as if Kyle could cut him down to nothing with, both with just one word.

"What the hell are you two doing out here?" came a stony, partially annoyed voice. The moment was shattered as the two boys snapped their gaze to Clyde, who was walking towards them with an unreadable expression plastered on his face. Kyle and Stan exchanged a glance before they both lifted themselves up off the ground, "why were you two sitting in front of my house?" Clyde asked them, shivering a bit, in the cold. He was standing there in his pajama's, which were blue pin stripe and hardly enough to resist the bitter night air. Kyle reached over and snagged up his inhaler.

"It's nothing, Clyde." Stan and Kyle both responded in unison, and as if the link of mind that had always used to permeate their friendship were still intact, the two boys turned around without another word, and began walking towards Kyle's house.

Clyde watched after them, blinking a few times before letting his tired eyes fall, half lidded. He watched until they were half a block away, passing into the darkness beyond the streetlight.

"….Fucking fags." He grumbled, turning around, himself, and marching back into his house.

Kyle opened up his drawer, and fished down into the bottom and pulled out a pair of green pajama's. He turned and held them out to Stan, wordlessly. There was no preparation for what happened. It was all done in relative silence. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of them and neither said anything about it. Stan always had kept a pair of PJ's at Kyle's house, because they slept over with each other so often. Stan himself had removed the pair Kyle had left at his house and thrown them into the trash in a drunken fit. He was amazed that the red head hadn't done something similar.

Stan took them, looking down at the plaid pattern, running his thumbs over the fabric as he turned and set them on the bed. Then, with his back to Kyle, he pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor. He then replaced it with the comfortable plaid top. He slid his arms through the short sleeves and then buttoned up the front before reaching down to undo his belt. He slid off his jeans and then pulled on the matching green bottoms before turning back around.

Kyle was still dressing. The Jew had pulled his bottoms on first, and was tugging off his t-shirt when Stan turned around. There was a flash of skin, strong, relaxed muscles displayed along his lean pale back, and the narrow column of his torso all for Stan to see. Quickly the Noirette looked away, pushing one hand into his dark hair. He gritted his teeth, trying to force the lush image from his brain. He couldn't very well sleep with that picture bouncing around in his head.

Kyle's pajamas were a matching shade of salmon pink, a color that Stan used to make fun of. It was made even funnier because Kyle had picked them out himself, insisting they were a 'faded red' color, which Stan insisted, with equal fervor, would technically make it pink. This time there were no such jokes, primarily because Stan was too busy trying to control the bulge threatening to tattle-tale him by erecting a flag pole in his nighties.

Kyle finally turned around to look at his friend, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the carpet. He looked distressed, but Kyle made no motion to address it. Instead he advanced, his shadow casting it's form across the larger boy. Stan looked up at him, and as if being spoken to he retreated back across the bed, yanking back the blankets and crawling beneath them. Kyle followed, burying himself in the comforter beside his super best friend. They dared not touch, not a toe, not even a brush of the shoulder; but that electricity from the sidewalk had followed them, and pulsed silently between them for the rest of the night.

A/N:: Oh Man, I don't think Cartman is going to like that his mini plan backfired on him. In fact, I would think Cartman is going to be pretty furious, furious enough to hatch a plan even more devious, horrible, and life shattering. Watch out Stan, Eric's coming after you, and he doesn't play fair.

I tingle with excitement, and for those of you who sent me emails asking if the story would be ending at the party. The definitive answer is no, and to be honest the story is just beginning.


	18. Chapter 18 The Warning

A/N: Enjoy, (warning explicit content) You've waited 17 chapters for something like this to happen, well here it is. And the party fast approaches. Three more comments for the next chapter, my friends! As always, thank you for sticking with me even with all the errors and blah blah blah. Oh and just as a side note, I got hammered drunk and watched the premiere of "Cartman Finds Love" last night. It made me ridiculously happy. Anyways, have fuuun!

Marjorine pushed her hands against Kenny's chest insistently, parting their lips from one another in desperation. Her bright blue eyes were shadowed by an evident fear, brows pulled down in distress. Her lower lip slid out in front of the upper and the corners turned downward. All ten of her fingers wrung themselves up in Mysterion's shirt as she spoke.

"Kenny, I'm so worried, please-I really need to talk to you." She pleaded.

Mysterion scrunched his face up in frustration, inhaling a long deep breath. He let it out slowly, his fists clenching against Marjie's spine. He didn't want to sit there and talk, he wanted to DO something. He wanted to continue kissing her and maybe feel his way along her body, maybe rub together a little. It wasn't as if he had gotten his drunk ass up off the couch just to come here and talk.

Kenny checked himself. His inner slut was talking, and not so deep under the surface either. He really did care about what Marjie had to say, it was just…when they were this close, when he could feel the heat radiating off of her, it seemed crazy that words needed to be spoken at all.

Kenny took in another deep breath and forced a smile. It came off a little lopsided, probably a result of the alcohol. He lifted a hand and cupped it beneath one blond pigtail, brushing his thumb over the green ribbon that held it together.

"Okay, Marjorine, what do you want to tell me." He asked, trying to sound interested. He closed his eyes as he smiled, sure that the hunger in them would give away his lack of focus. What could possibly be more important than him rubbing his body against hers?

Marjorine's expression shifted to one of thankful reverence. It was of no surprise to Kenny, he had never met anyone so submissive, so happy for any attention that was given. She was like an abused animal, too desperate for attention not to lick the hand of anyone willing to give it, willing to roll over and accept whatever verdict the Master comes to. He had to admit, he liked it, and he was more than willing to rub her tummy or any other part of her as often as she would allow.

"I'm afraid someone is going to try and hurt you," She said, her voice coming out ragged with anguish. Her fingers clenched harder in his shirt and she thrust her face forward, between them. She buried her face against his chest and then turned her head to look up at the underside of his jaw, "Oh, Kenny…I'm so afraid!"

Mysterion's fingers her left hovering in the air with Marjorine lunged against him, and he kept them there, splaying open his fingers in mild surprise and he tucked his chin, trying to look down at her in turn. Someone wanted to hurt him? He didn't mean to immediately dismiss the thought but it sounded just like another one of Marjorine's obsessive worries. After all she had called him, hysterical, not two days before about a spider that had been loose in her room. She had screamed and jumped up and down on her beg, begging him to come save her, "Mysterion! Mysterion! Help me, help me!" It's a mutant radioactive spider and it has come to kidnap me and take me to its leader.

"Marjie…who do you think wants to hurt me?" He said, pushing one hand against his blond hair, running it down to the base of his neck where his discarded hood lay bunched up at his nape. He scratched there, trying to break the rising tension in her mood. If she kept getting more and more distress he would never get her to take her dress off. 'bad Kenny' he said to himself, 'pay attention to her'.

"One of the others," she said, in almost a groan, "the bad man that lives with us." She pressed the top of her head up under Kenny's chin as her eyes began to water, her fingers uncurling from his shirt and sliding down his torso. Kenny's free hand, the one still hovering out in space, came down against Marjorines shoulder, squeezing gently in attempt to comfort her.

"The bad man…who loves with you…" Mysterion responded, repeating her words with very little understanding. What the hell was she talking about…Butters didn't have any brothers or sisters…was maybe she talking about Butter's ass hole father? Kenny felt his stomach tighten. That fucking bastard, that abusive shit. He wrapped both arms around Marjorine and hugged her tightly too him.

"Don't worry Marjorine, that bastard can't hurt me." He said, confidence dripping from his jaws. There was no way Butter's father could hurt him, he was used to abuse, he was used to pain. It was just adding another name to his list of people to undo, destroy in the name of justice. He felt a shudder run through his body, that same chill that had found him on the roof the night he had comforted his little sister. Parents, they thought they could do anything they wanted, punch, smack, neglect.

"Noo, Mysterion…you don't understand! He's dangerous, he wants to hurt you!" she insisted, curling up in his strong embrace. She squirmed, frustration evident in her voice. Kenny leaned down his head and pressed soft lips to her cheek, and then drew them down the length of her neck, tongue sliding forward, grazing milky skin, tasting it. He was brilliant at turning his anger into sexual energy, it radiated off of him in a glaze of heat.

"No. Marjorine, don't worry." He pulled her back by the shoulder, lifting her head away from him and looked her in the eyes. Slowly he removed his mask, staring at her with that boiling powerful resolve. She weakened under it, going limp in his grasp and allowing the stronger form to push her down against the bed they sat on.

Marjorines wide blue eyes fell, half lidded and shadowed by nothing short of devotion. She melted back against the covers, Kenny's hands placed on either side of her head, anchoring him less than a foot above her, one knee sliding between her legs, which part obediently. They stay there, like that for an instant before the pressure, the build became too much; Too much for both of them.

Marjie's shaky hands lift up between them, float down to the hem of his dark shirt, clutching it, and yanking upwards. Mysterion responds with eagerness, tilting his head down and lifting his hands up off the bed to aid in the removal of his costume. Once it popped off over his head it was discarded quickly to the floor.

Kenny's body was slender, even on the side of being unhealthily so. His ribs were evident under the pale stretch of his skin, and each abdominal muscles stood out starkly along his torso. On others this leanness might have been unattractive, but for some reason it fit the blond boy, Marjorine though so. Even being as thin as he was he would be able to overpower her easily. He was hungry, and dominating when it came to the sensual side of things. Once his shirt was off, that meant Marjorine's tiny cream colored dress was fair game.

Ravenous, Kenny attacked the straps of his frail partner dress, ridding them down off her shoulders. Small noises, none of reproach, arose from Marji's throat, catching there and puffed from between her teeth at his roughness. She made no move to stop him as he peeled the dress off her form, but squirmed in demand of his touch.

Kenny's brows shot up, he hadn't expected her to be wearing a bra, after all this was Butter's body as well as hers and well…she lacked fullness of any sort in her chest area. He caught himself grinning, intrigued by the frills that rounded the flat yet still feminine form. He felt his lower region stirring as Marjorine's body, Butter's body arched up off the bed towards him, their groins bumping together. He bit his lower lip, clamping down so hard he was surprised he didn't taste blood.

Marjorine's eyes ground shut tightly as she felt the knee place between her legs move upwards against her center. A gasp stretched raggedly from and her arms came up, wrapping around Kenny's neck, dragging him down to her. Their lips crashed together, breathe scorching each other. Her fingers dug into the back of his shoulders and his fingers slid to her front, unfastening the clasp. He then pulled his lips away from hers and moved them down to the centerline of her chest. He reveled in the small noises she made as his lips found the raised pink orb of her nipple, tongue flicking out to spin a wet circle around it.

The taste of her flesh was so light and airy that it sent chills down his tongue, a severely startling sensation that only stimulated his eagerness more. His fingers moved further and further south as he continued to coax the coo's from her. His hand came to the fringe of marjie's panties and crawled over it to where a solid bulge had grown. For only a split second Kenny was surprised. He always forgot that Marjorine was a boy, and sometimes even forgot that she shared this body with Butters.

Their eyes met again, and both flushed. Kenny paused there, with his hand cupping the cloth soaked cock. He suddenly became unsure of himself. He was treading into some very unfamiliar territory. His heart thudded double-time against his ribcage. Point of no return; He squeezed and a delicious moan lilted from Marjorine's lips. Such a sensual serenade, any reservations he had disappeared.

He looped his fingers around the stitch of Marjorine's tiny panties and yanked them down to her flushed knees. He felt his skin prickle as he watched the Marjorines blushing cheeks grow an ever deepening shade of pink, but his eyes traveled down to the full exposed, and very hard cock that his fingers now danced around. His fingers wrapped around it for the second time, the passion far more evident, flesh to flesh.

Kenny couldn't help but grin, chuckling darkly as he watched Marjorines head tilt back, her mouth opening in a silent scream of overwhelming sensation. He took the opportunity to dive down and claim her exposed throat with an extended tongue, dragging it from her clavicle all the way to her chin as his clenched fists yanked downward along the shaft, pulling the skin along with it to the base and then slide up to gather beneath the crown. His thumb moved over the spongy head and felt an outflow of wetness. He smeared it down in slow strokes and used it to drench his grasp. He began a steady pump, the friction smoothed by liquid. The practiced motion was remarkably fluid, caught in the throes of ecstasy Marjorine thrashed, crying out as her sensitive parts worked. Tugging in the most pleasurable ways, Kenny continued his rhythm, growling like an animal against her throat, his face pressed flush with her neck. His hand slipped up and down her length, stimulating and exciting the tender skin.

"Kenny, I can't…it's too much!" she whimpered, just as fireworks exploded in her mind as she came. Her form tensed, her upper body lurching upwards, nails burrowing into Kenny's bare back as she cried out his name. Mysterion, Kenny, heaved upwards, increasing his pressure to that very fine line between perfection and impossibly repressive, and coaxed the climax out with tantalizing dexterity. White milky molten sex spilled out over his hand, saturated his clutch which released slowly.

The two of them gasped together, and Kenny rolled to his side, panting from the energy expended. The muscles In his arm burned. The angle had been awkward but the pay-off had been well worth it. The only issue was his own arousal remained. Hearing those noises, feeling Marjorine slipping between his fingers had only wet his appetite.

Margorine's body bucked, and fell back to the sheets, spent. Her expression was that of sated pleasure. The two basked in it, enjoying the afterglow of intimacy. Besides a remaining linger of frustration in Kenny's body, they were both happy.

"God, I can't believe your parent's didn't hear us." Kenny confessed, hoisting his head up with the heel of his hand, bent elbow digging into the mattress. Still heavy in breath, Marjorine chuckled, a hand raising to pouty pink lips. He glanced down at the floor, noting the pieces of discarded clothing, including Marjorines panties, he wondered when she had kicked them off all the way.

"Oh, well…daddy sleeps with an oxygen tank, he has sleep problems, and neither of them can here over the sound."

Kenny raised a brow, but didn't ask any further questions. He really didn't want to know. He just wanted to kiss those plump pillows. He dipped in close and stole a kiss from them. The electricity between them made him moan, his erection ached. He had to grit his teeth from the pain of it.

His agony did not go unnoticed by his tinier counterpart. A devious little smile lifted the corners of her mouth and those blue eyes sparked with not so innocent ideas. She slithered overtop his bare chest, her own pressing down against his. She traced the centerline of his chest with her index finger and batted long dark butterfly lashes.

"If you like…I could help you now." Her voice was a semi-shy whisper, her meekness evident in the demure way she raised her shoulder, and how her teeth clamped gently down over her bottom lip. Kenny felt his core twist, she looked edible. His desire for her was peeking again, the hunger back in full force as he watched one pony tail slide off her bare shoulder as she tilted her head questioningly.

"You want to help me out?" he asked, half expecting her invitation to be revoked. He tossed his head, flipping his slightly dampened bangs off his forehead. He had been trying, only a moment ago, to calm his urges, to reel in the beast but the hint that perhaps this sexual encounter wasn't over made his blood shoot right back to near boiling point. His thoughts were clouded with the promise of more when he felt fingers pressing against the zipper of his pants.

"Yes…I'd like to." She purred, fingers working the button free and opening the zipper. Kenny kicked off his pants and then laid back again, folding his arms behind his head. Marjorine took him the image of his long legs, marveling at the chiseled indentation that ran in a v on either side of his hip leading downward towards his groin, disappearing behind the grey plaid fabric of his boxers. The motion gave her silent permission to do as she pleased.

Delicate hands pulled down the elastic waistband, tugging it half way down his thighs, exposing his vertical shaft. At the sight of it her modest rouge deepened, smearing across the bridge of her nose. Kenny wasn't small by any means; in fact he was surprisingly large. When her fingers wrapped around it, all five of her fingers fit round the girth and still there was space between the curl of her index finger and the swollen head. To close this space she wrapped her other hand around the uncovered length, settling two fingers between the ridge of the crown and her other hand, the rest of her fingers overlapping.

The muscles in Kenny's legs tightened in anticipation. His jaw was set rigid and his teeth ground together when he felt her fingers tighten. As he looked down, watching Marjorine as she experimented with her fingers, positioning herself more comfortable beside his thigh, settling one knee on either side of his, something unexpected happened. She then bent, sliding her backside down his leg, her bare nethers rubbing down his thigh until her face hovered above cock. She then pressed pursed glossy pillows to the tip, allowing the gentle increase of pressure to part them until the whole head was taken into her mouth. He was suddenly overcome with hot wet sensation. His whole form tensed and a gasp escaped his lips, stolen by the sudden rush.

"That-that's good, keep doing that." He demanded, trying hard not to buck against her mouth. He could not help but throw down a hand and clutch the base of her neck. The movement forced a small noise from her and her mouth slid down further along him. Then, together with her hands, now soaked with her saliva, she began a hydraulic rhythm. Her whole body rocked with each stroke.

Kenny' head tilted to the side, eyes shut tightly as he ground upwards into her mouth, meeting her as his whole world became blistering heat and desire. He could feel the knot of passion building at the base of his hardness, at the persuasion of Marjorine's hands and lips he couldn't hold himself back.

Everything in his world exploded in a climax of light and sound. For a moment exquisite energy wrapped him in perfect pleasure. There was him and there was her and there was the gushing hot fluid that poured from him into her waiting mouth. As it spilled out over her tongue she lapped, taking all of it into her mouth and swallowing with impressive ease.

At the conclusion, Marjorine collapsed against his chest, then rolled to the side of him, both panting heavily, both shaking. Kenny was still reeling from the incredible performance. He turned his eyes, running his eyes up Marjorines naked body, grinning.

"Damn!" was all he could manage to say, shaking his head slowly. Marjie giggled cutely and batted her long lashes. They laid there for a long time, Kenny wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest. They stayed like that until Kenny heard stirring down the hall, Butters parents were awake. He cursed under his breath and sat up. He looked down, Marjorine was fast asleep atop the covers. He didn't want to wake her up, if he did it might not be her that came back around, it might be Butters. He wanted to avoid trying to explain what he was doing, mostly naked in his bed.

He gathered up his costume and looked out the open window, it was getting light out, he couldn't very well run back to his house dressed as Mysterion. He dipped into Butter's drawers and pulled out a t-shirt. He tugged it on, and then pulled his costume pants on as well. With an easy leap he dropped down from Marjorines window and sped off through the back yard towards his house.

"Butter's, Butter's," came a voice, and then a loud knocking on the door. The voice permeated deep into Marjorines brain and awoke the boy who went by that name. Gasping Butter's bolted upright, his head spinning. He shot a look at the door, hearing his father pounding his fist against the wood, "Butter's wake up it's time for school!"

"I-I'm awake Dad." Butter's called. He felt so exhausted, as if he had been hit by a bus. He pushed a hand to his head, groaning. His brow furrowed as his fingers curled into long blond locks, locks that didn't belong to him.

"Oh no…" he murmured, pulling the wig off his head, popping the hairpins free. He stared at it, and then down at the pale dress and the panties lying discarded on the carpet, "…not again." His heart fluttered with fear. He quickly gathered up the incriminating items and shoved them back into his drawer. This wasn't the first time he had woken up like this, but each time he swore it would be the last.

He shook his head from side to side, trying to force away the fatigue. He had to gather himself and be down for breakfast of his father would be angry. The idea made his whole body quake with fear. He smacked his lips, running his tongue over his teeth as he thought about going into the bathroom to brush his teeth. There was a strange taste in his mouth. He wrinkled his nose, unsure of what it was. It tasted bitter and salty. He pushed the thought out of his mind and went back to getting ready. It was probably nothing.

Down the street, Kenny made it to the bus stop right as Kyle and Stan did. He didn't have the time to go home and clean himself up, and he didn't have time to grab his orange hoodie. He felt practically naked without it. He noticed that Kyle and Stan had arrived together, something he hadn't seen happen in a long time. Eric was there too, staring between the the basketball player and the track star with unabashed distain.

It seemed that sending Stan out after Kyle had actually worked, even if the whole thing had been mostly a ploy to get the drunk Stan out of the house so that he could go see his Marjorine. Kenny mentally gave himself a pat on the back.

"What the hell happened to you, Kenny?" Stan asked as he ran his gaze over the boys disheveled appearance. Kenny pushed one hand behind his head and grinned, chuckling softly.

"Oh nothing," He laughed, "what about you two?

"Nothing." they both answered at once, and then a buzzing silence hovered over them, added to by the silent but piercing glare from Cartman. Rage was evident in those dark eyes. Kenny could see it, it gave him a horribly unsettled feeling. That sort of anger, from Cartman, that…was not safe. He wondered if Kyle and Stan saw it, but they didn't seem to. He and Eric's eyes met, and Eric's seemed to dare him to say something, dare him to say a single damn word. He didn't, he wasn't going to provoke that crazy son of a bitch.


	19. Chapter 19 I Like, LikeLike You

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience everyone! It has been really hectic with school so I apologize for it taking me so long to post this chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Next chapter the Party happens so stay tuned for more crazy shit! You all have been a wonderful audience and I truly appreciate all the interest that has been shown in this draft. I love you all! I would like to have 4 reviews before I post the new chapter! I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 19

"What a little prick," Bebe barked, folding her arms across her capacious chest. She flipped back her crimped bangs with a tilt of her head and narrowed her volatile gaze across the room.

"I know, It's just unforgivable!" Red confirmed, nodding her head a few times, staring off in the same direction as Bebe. Wendy didn't even want to turn aroun. She was already regretting mentioning how she felt to the two other girls. She ducked her head a bit and pressed her fingers to her brow.

"Red, Bebe…come on, it's not that horrible." She said with a heavy sigh, "I mean, I can understand if he wants to spend some time with his friends, after all it's probably healthy. Right?" She pointed out, but her two friends weren't going to hear of it.

"No, Wendy, it's not okay! Stan said he was going to eat with you today, he should keep his promises. He could have at least invited you along, ya know," Bebe snapped, huffing.

"Yeah, it's totally not cool that just all of a sudden he's back to being buddy buddy with the boys and leave you, his girlfriend, high and dry! Why the hell does he think he is, just because he's the basketball's point leader doesn't mean he can treat people however he wants." Red got a sour look on her face, twirling a lock of auburn hair around her polished finger.

"Oh well, we are aren't boyfriend and girlfriend." Wendy said, a flush rising up on her high cheekbones. He glance up and watched as Stan and Kyle laughed together, it seemed nervous and tentative, it was obvious they didn't feel totally comfortable around each other again yet. It was also obvious that they were both putting in an enormous amount of effort into the simple task of sitting next to each other.

"It's sick. I mean, what guy ditches a pretty girl like Wendy to hang out with another guy?" Red said, exasperated. Bebe wrinkled her nose and shoved it up into the air.

"A guy that's not into girls, that's who." Bebe responded. The two snortled and Wendy pursed her lips. She pushed back her chair and stood up, lifting her tray up off the table.

"That isn't very nice, girls…I'm going to go get my books for class." And with that Wendy turned and walked off to throw her things away. She felt a bit better, not being around that. What would her friends say if they found out that Stan was going to be ditching her tonight at the party too. She was sure that they would be going together, but apparently Stan had other plans.

"_So are you excited for the party tonight, Stan?" Wendy had asked, bouncing up to Stan at his locker. _

"_I guess so. I mean…Kyle and I are hanging out again so I'll have someone to go with." Wendy watched Stan shut his locker, her heart dropping in her chest. _

"_O-oh…um," Stan seemed oblivious to her sudden pain, "So…"Stan leaned his back against his locker and looked up at the fluorescent lights. There was a pain in his eyes too, something that stopped Wendy from saying anything more. He looked so….lost, like a man being carried by the current down a river. _

Stan wasn't sure exactly how it happened, none of it really made much sense but there he was, sitting between Kenny and Kyle at the lunch table. Craig, Cylde, Jimmy and Eric sat across from him. The hum of conversation seemed to pass over him in waves, it was almost too much stimulation to bear. He sunk down in his chair a bit, as if lowering himself would permit the waves of words more gently over him. Still they crashed against his ears. Every sound seemed to resonate at the same volume.

The sound of the trays smacking against the tables was agony. The noise of laughter, footsteps thudding on the carpet, the squeals of the girls flirting with his companions, he could hardly stand it. He rested his elbows against the table and pressed his palms over his ears. He hoped that he could just disappear, go unnoticed by the others chatting boisterously at the table.

"Oh suck my cock, Clyde, the Skyrim was not that good." Kyle said, rolling a bite of burger around in his mouth.

"Have you even played it?" Craig asked, his dry voice cutting through the protests that rose up amongst the brethren.

"Yeah, I've played it. It's glitchy as fuck, and oblivion wasn't very good either." Eric leaned across the table and snatched Kyle's hat right of his head, red curls bouncing forth, free from their green trap.

"HAH! Khal, you only say that because you have a boner for MMO's and can't rip yourself away from Tera." Cartman's hawk like eyes flashed with dangerous baiting. He loved nothing more than to yank out Kyle's demonic temper.

"Yeah, so! Fuck you, Cartman, you haven't played Tera. It's a revolution in MMORPG's, you don't even lock on to targets, you have to skill aim."

"That's p-p-pussy gaming." Jimmy chimed.

"I haven't played it because I don't play pussy ass MMO's, Khal." Eric retorted, agreeing with two fist bumped.

"You played WoW." Kyle pointed out, the corners of his lips turning upward. He jolted upwards and yanked his hat back, which Eric had kept hovered above the table.

Eric huffed, but his smirk never left his lips, "Come now, Khal, everyone played WoW. The difference is that you never canceled your account."

"Oh shut your dumb ass mouth, Cartman!" Kyle barked, yanking his hat back down over his ears, tucking his mass of curls back under the brim. The whole table was alive with laughter, the conversation had not yet taken any turn towards being serious, and the jabs at each other were usual and basically harmless. Kyle was grinning and out of habit he lifted up a hand and then dropped it down onto Stan's shoulder. Stan flinched, and his whole body jumped at the unexpected touch. It felt hot, as if it would burn right through his clothing and sear his flesh. Kyle immediately removed his, his brows shooting up in shock at the almost frightened noise that peeled from Stan's lips.

Another moment later and Stan was on his feet, a few beads of sweat sliding down his temple. He was panting and the look of distress was evident on his narrow face. The whole table had gone silent, and everyone had turned their attention onto him. Confusion was a silent passenger, hovering above the group, and it grew broader as Stan hastened off out of the cafeteria, leaving his tray abandoned on the table.

"What was that about?" Craig asked, leaning with his chin on his hand, his eyes half lidded with hint of indifference playing across his features. Kyle and Kenny exchanged glances. Kenny frowned, while Kyle still looked dazed.

"Uh…I…" Kyle looked from Kenny, to Cartman and then off in the direction Stan had disappeared in "…I-have-to go." And with that, words sliding together, Kyle picked himself up, he too leaving his tray abandoned, and rushed after his newly reacquainted best friend.

What the hell had just happened, why did Stan run off like that? Had he done something wrong? All these questions rolled around in Kyle's brain as he half walked half jogged after the noirette. He could feel his heart thudding uncomfortably against his rib cage. Was it already going to be over before it had ever begun? Was he already going to lose Stan's friendship for the second time? He couldn't bear the thought of having to go back to being distant 'once friends' again. The thought very literally made his insides ache.

Kyle shook his head quickly back and forth a few times, trying to shake away his fears as he moved. No, there was no way he was going to let Stan walk away again. If he had to he would grab the closest heavy thing and bash the basketball player over the head, knock him out, and drag him back. He would tie him to a chair if he had to. Once Kyle tapped into that determination that sometimes only Cartman could ignite, he could really be a near unstoppable force. It would take a whole lot to deter him, something like-

"Where do you think you're going?"

Bebe….Red. The two girls slid in front of Kyle as he hurried towards the cafeteria exit. The stood there, arms folded securely across their chests. Bebe was slightly taller than Kyle, and red stood only around a half centimeter shorter. The two girls glared at him like angry yard dogs, he wouldn't had been surprised if they had started foaming at the mouth with some incurable, feminine rage.

"I'm just…I need…" Kyle didn't bother trying to explain to them, he made a move to dart around them but Bebe flung out her arm, bouncing it against Kyle's chest, right below his clavicle. The two girls took a step back, moving in front of Kyle for the second time. Their gaze grew, if possible, more angry.

"Oh no you do. We know where you're going." Bebe said, her voice raised just one octave too high to be pleasant to listen to. Red nodded her head and her scowl became more like a sneer, contorting her pretty angular face into something ugly.

"Yeah, you're going after Stan, but you can't do that right now." Red snapped.

"Bebe. Red," Kyle's face began to spot with anger. What the hell was this shit? He didn't have time for this. If this took too much time he wasn't going to find Stan at all, "move!" Kyle yelled. The fervor in his voice took the two girls aback. It didn't take long for Red to recover and she snapped back with just as much passion.

"No, Broflovski! We aren't going to let you ruin this, Wendy is going to ask Stan out so you need to just back off!" Her eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets and Kyle shrank back a bit. He hadn't expected that response, not at all.

"Reeed," Bebe's mouth fell open and she nudged the red headed girl in the arm, "you weren't supposed to tell anyone!" Red slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled a bit.

"oops." She turned sideways and Bebe let out a long sigh.

"Look, Kyle, we just want to make sure that Wendy gets some alone time with Stan, okay?" Her expression softened, now that the secret was out. She batted her long dark lashes at Kyle and flashed a smile far contrary to how convicted she had looked just a few moments ago.

Kyle slowly nodded his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. Something inside of him tightened. His whole body seemed to drain of color and he felt the confidence that had been his partner just a little while ago trench out through his fingertips and toes. Wendy was going to ask out Stan. Why did that hurt so much?

Kyle turned away, even while Bebe continued talking to him.

"Hey, Kyle I'm talking to y—" her voice winked out from his perception as he walked away, refusing to focus on a word she said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and dragged his feet back into the cafeteria. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. There was even a knot rising up in his throat. Damn his over reactive emotional responses! He wasn't sure he was going to be able to stop himself from bursting into to tears right then and there.

He felt alone. He felt alone even there in the middle of a huge room full of talking and laughing people. Everything around him seemed to flicker out of existence, leaving him alone in a black expanse of nothingness. His fists clenched at his sides. It was all going to happen again, he was going to lose his best friend all over. He gritted his teeth together, trying his best to fight back the swelling tears.

He was so absorbed in the pain that he didn't even notice that he had stopped walking and was standing in the center of the cafeteria with his head down. He didn't hear anyone approach him and wasn't aware that anyone had until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't argue when the pressure increased slightly and he was led away at out the view of the throng of people. He was taken by the wrist and was brought down the hall and into the men's bathroom.

"Get out, kid." Kenny growled. He gave the one kid standing at the sink a feral glare and sent him skittering out the door behind him. By the time Kenny turned himself around and looked at Kyle, the boy was leaking tears all the way down his face. As far as criers went, Kyle was one of the prettier ones. His green eyes seemed to sparkle as the tears filled up his lids and spilled over down those high, almost feminine, cheekbones.

Kenny placed his hands on Kyle's upper arms and held him there. He tilted his head, trying to catch the boys downcast gaze. No luck. Kyle couldn't have seen him through the tears anyways. It pained Kenny to see his friend like this. Sure, Kyle was a bit more inclined towards these sorts of emotional states but that still didn't make it easier.

"Hey, Kyle…easy now…" Kenny had a lot of experience dealing with frenetic people. He had held Marjorine while she sobbed, rocked his little sister to sleep, but Kyle was different. There was something very alluring about the way he looked when he was emotionally wounded, and yet Kenny really didn't know how to handle it.

"Kenny…" Kyle sobbed, sniffing, trying to reign in his shaky voice, "I can't do it again, I can't loose him. I just can't and I don't know what to do!" His words ran together and he reached up to grab Kenny's shirt in desperation. Kenny was a bit startled, but didn't move away.

"Wh-what do you mean?" He could barely understand what it was his friend was trying to say.

"When Stan ran off I went to follow him. Bebe and Red stopped me and they told me Wendy was going to ask out Stan. I'm going to lose him all over again! I can't let that happen. I can't. I can't-" Kyle was getting frantic. Kenny squeezed his arms, trying to get him to calm down.

"Whoa, Kyle, slow down."

"No, Kenny! I can't slow down!" Kyle snapped his head up and his wide dewy eyes suddenly narrowed in new found determination, "No. I have to go stop Wendy from asking Kyle out." He abruptly leaned into Kenny's hand's trying to push out of his grasp, but Kenny help him firm.

"Whoa! Serious! Calm the fuck down, what are you talking about? Wendy and Stan…why don't you want then to go out?" Kenny sucked in a sharp breath. Could it be? Could Kyle really feel the same way for Stan that Stan did for Kyle. Sure he had suspected, but were they really both going to confess it to him in the same week?

"Kenny I…" Kyle's whole face had turned red. His breath was labored and he was wheezing heavily. He had to stop pushing against Kenny in order to reach down into his pocket and pull out his inhaler. He stood there, finally without struggling, and pumped the medication down into his lungs. Kenny stood there, a nerve in his left eye twitching out of anticipation.

"Kenny I like him. " Kyle whimpered.

"You…like who? Stan?" Kenny milked the information from Kyle, wanting to hear him say it out loud.

"I like like him!" Kyle's voice dripped with exasperation.

"Like…like like him?"

"LIKE LIKE LIKE HIM, you ass! Now move the fuck out of my way, I have to go stop this shit!" and with that, Kenny was shoved aside, and Kyle bolted out of the bathroom. Kenny reached after him, trying to snag his arm, but missed.

"Wait, Kyle…." Too late, he was out there, "f-uck." Kenny raised up his arm and leaned his forearm on the doorframe. "he...like like's you too." He said to nobody.

Wendy wrung her hands together, and stared at her pink tennis shoes. What had she been thinking? This was not really her forte. The silence that hung in the air between her and Stan seemed to grow thicker and thicker with every passing second. She felt like she was back in middle school, when she had first noticed what a pretty shade of deep stormy blue Stan's eyes were, and the subtle way he tilted his head every now and then to flip back his shag of short dark hair. It was just so cute. Then, all of a sudden he had shot up like a weed, grown taunt muscles and darkened to a lush tawny basketball super star.

"Stan I was just…wondering…if you…"to Wendy it felt as if every word was punctuated, separated by a huge chasm of nervousness. She felt like she was going to stumble over every word. Stan was staring at her with a furrowed brow, completely oblivious as to what she was trying to get out, "You are going to the Party tonight, right?"

"…yeah, we already talked about that didn't we? I said I would go,"

"no, uh I mean yes, I know we did talk about it but no, that isn't really my question."

"Oh, um…okay?" Stan was growing a little impatient, he had really just wanted to be alone. He hadn't left the cafeteria to be hounded by Wendy outside his locker, but he couldn't very well say that.

"I wanted to ask if maybe, you wanted to go to the party with me."

Stan felt his heart sink. He blinked a few times as both their cheeks reddened. Was Wendy asking him out? He couldn't be sure but that sure seemed like what was happening, and how did he feel about that? Things had gotten so strange.

"Oh uh, you mean…like, a date date?"

"Yes," Wendy sighed, "like a date date."

"So that means that you…like me?"

"Yes, I like you." It was now Wendy's turn to get agitated.

"Like...like, like me?"

"Yes Stan! I Like, Like you!" Wendy stomped one foot in frustration.

This was Stan's chance. This was his chance to prove to himself that he wasn't, well, wasn't-you know. This was his chance to push all those perverted thoughts about his best friend or used to be best friend or whatever the fuck Kyle was to him at this point, out of his mind. He had a beautiful, smart, funny, well dressed girl that wanted to go back out with him even after he had completely shattered her heart. He could undo that mistake of breaking up with her and just erase all the feelings that had been choking the light out of him. Maybe if he fell back in love with Wendy he could stand being around Kyle again.

"Yes, Wendy. I will go with you." Stan forced a smile. As soon as he did this he felt something very strange.

"You will? Oh that's so great! I'm so happy! Will you pick me up then?" Wendy seemed to light up like a firecracker. She reached out her hands and clasped them together around one of Stan's, tugging it out between them.

Stan looked down at Wendy's small hands and let his gaze travel up her arm, then her shoulder, then all the way to her lovely face. Yes, she was very pretty, probably even prettier than she had been when they had dated before, but something was just off.

"Heh, yeah…I'll pick you up around seven…" he said motely. He was looking at her almost violet eyes, eyes that had once caused his heart to flutter. They didn't do that to him anymore. The softness of her fingers rubbing gently against his did not send excitement coiling up his spine. The smell of her dark hair did not reach his brain and make him dizzy.

Stan took a moment to close his eyes. There were eyes staring at him from a memory that rolled around inside his head. Large tear soaked green eyes staring up at him. Then he saw them from a different memory, they gazed at him through billowing steam, peering from overtop a shower soaked shoulder, red curls hanging damp around them. He felt fire ignite inside his soul like a lit match. He felt his knees go slightly weak. When he opened his own eyes again he half expected to see jades staring back at him. Instead there were tourmalines blinking between rows of long dark lashes, and they were getting closer.

Wendy stood up on the tips of her toes and leaned forward. She pressed her soft pink lips against Stan's cheek. It was like being brushed by the wing of a butterfly. Smooth and dry, warm, but not hot. Not hot at all. Safe. He could still feel her fingers laced around his. He felt as thought he was going to be ill. What was he doing? What the fuck was he thinking, patching a deep gushing wound with a band aid.

Kyle watched the 'couple' from the other end of the hall. He watched the fingers laced together. He watched Wendy's happy bouncing and then he watched the kiss and the way Wendy leaned into him with her arms then thrown about the tall boys neck. He felt like he was going to be sick. How could this have happened? How could he have let him slip away…again? How was he going to reach him now?


	20. Chapter 20 Dressing For Disaster

"Oh God. Fuck." Kyle lifted his hand to shield his eyes from what he was seeing. He wasn't in the mood to deal with of see this shit, but it was all to be expected. Preparations for the party tonight left very little room to be surprised by anything. He had just walked into Craig's bathroom, under the illusion that it was empty. It was very much occupied, but not by what some may expect. Tweak was hunched over the sink with a straw shoved up one nostril, snorting up a line of white powder.

Tweak bolted upright and ran his sleeve under his nose, sniffing repeatedly as he turned wide eyes on Kyle. He looked panicked for a moment before he realized who it was he was looking at. His tight shoulder loosened a little and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh Jesus, it's only you, Kyle, I thought it was my parents!" He gasped, leaning down again to inhale the last line. Kyle raised a brow.

"Tweak, man…we aren't even at your house."

"uh, I know, I know that," He said, "Just a little LML." He said, as he rubbed at his nose. Kyle had always known Tweak did a lot of drugs, a lot of uppers to be precise, but had never walked in on him actually doing it. Something about watching someone snort had always given him the tinglies, and not in a good way.

Kyle waved his hand in a feeble attempt to wipe the image from his memory and shut the door. He scratched at the back of his neck as he entered the kitchen, watching as some of the other boys sorted through their alcohol loot.

"Back already?" Craig asked from where he stood, leaning against the opposite side of the island counter. He was sipping some jack and coke from a straw and only paused for a moment to speak.

"Uh, yeah well…Tweak is uh…he's using it right now."

"Oh so he's already getting high? I told him to wait." Craig's dry voice dropped off and he went back to sipping at his drink, rolling around till his back was against the counter. Kyle shifted his attention onto Kenny who was organizing the drinking into the fridge with Tolken's help, the two boys were deep in conversation, and didn't acknowledge him, which was fine.

"Here, get an early start." Craig offered, rounding the counter and shoving a nameless drink into the Jew's hand. Kyle took it, blinking down at the clear liquid as it sloshed against the side of the plastic cup.

"Gee thanks." Kyle said, taking it to his lips as he turned around and walked casually out of the kitchen and into the living room. It tasted simple, just sprite and vodka. He took gulp of it, and it went down smooth enough. He lowered it bellow his chin and peered over the top of it. Eric was crouched down at the coffee table, which had been shoved to the far corner, messing with the ipod.

"Got a good playlist set?" Kyle asked, trying to keep himself from laughing at the look of sheer concentration apparent on the football players face. He had his tongue trapped and visible between his teeth, sneering at the glowing screen.

"I'm working on it," He said, his voice hinting along the lines of seriously frustrated. He set the ipod down hard and leaned back, growling, "Craig's music is all shit! It's all Jazz!"

"I like Jazz." Kyle said, chuckling

"You like Jazz because you're Jew."

"How..does that even make sense?" Kyle guffawed, shaking his head.

"What are you drinking?" Eric changed the subject flawlessly, without even a hesitation. Kyle dropped back his head and groaned in mild frustration, half laughing to himself. It was just so...Cartman. Sometimes-most of the time that was a bad thing, but when it was light and effortless like this it was just sort of the definition to their friendship.

"It's Sprite and Vodka, I think." Kyle lifted his drink up to the light, staring at it through the red solo-cup.

"Well, give it here." Eric demanded, gesturing for Kyle to pass the drink over with an absent curl of his fingers as he dropped down onto the couch. Kyle pursed his lips, but passed it to him, watching him take a huge swill of it before plopping down next to him.

It was a little after eight and none of the guests had arrived yet, or were expected to arrive until at least after nine. There was another whole hour of waiting around, getting things ready, and pre-gaming. There was still plenty to do, but Kyle didn't even want to think about doing until after he had consumed a bit more alcohol.

"Come on, Eric, give it back." Kyle reached out, trying to snatch his cup back. Eric, predictably, lifted it away, and far out of the red heads reach.

"Give what back?" Cartman sneered, enjoying the game of keep away, especially with Kyle leaning far over top of him, his body brushing against his as he struggled to reach the prize. Eric wondered if the smaller boy was really so naive to be oblivious to the way his movements aroused anyone within a mile radius.

Finally Kyle managed to wrestle his drink out of Eric's hand and in a rise of victory he swigged down the last of it, letting out a loud "ahhh" afterwards, grinning. Eric watched him, chuckling softly to himself. He was noticing that already there was a blotch of red blush settling under his Jew's green eyes. Yes, his own little Jew rat. He, himelf had hardly drank at all, and that was exactly how he had planned it.

"Got the music set up, Eric?' Kenny asked as he entered into the room with an arm flung around Tolken's neck. The two already looked fairly drunk and each had a beer in hand.

"For the most part." Eric said, folding his arms together behind his head as he settled into the couch.

"Well, we're gunna get the beer pong table set up so one of you guys should go get the ping pong balls from Craigs room." Kenny said, hanging off of Craig's neck as if he were already incapable of standing upright. He was grinning toothily and slurring his words.

"Damn, Kenny, you already look smashed." Kyle said, chuckling.

"So-not-drunk-yet." Kenny said stumbling away from Tolken to the closet, where the fold up pong table was stashed. It was a nifty little thing that Craig almost always brought over to any party he went to. It was always a hit.

"I've got the ping pong balls." Came a high pitched, mewling voice. It was Tweak, looking perfectly strung out as usual. He dropped down on the couch on the other side of Kyle, and dropped the plastic bag of six ping pong balls down in the end table.

"Guy's I'm fucking ripe," He said, sucking in a long breath, "when is this party going to start?" He scratched furiously along the back of his neck, breathing like a racehorse.

"Fuck, Tweak, you look like you took the whole damn bag," Kenny said, laughing, "How much did you do?"

"Three lines."

"Fuck man, you're gunna die dude." Tolken said, laughing as he shook his head.

"Yeah, we each only did one," Kenny said, exasperated, "Wasn't the rest supposed to be for Craig and Cartman?"

"Eric said I could have his hit, and Craig….well…he still has half a line left."

"He's gunna be pissed." Kenny looked over his shoulder towards the kitchen. Craig was inside, talking on on his cell phone to someone.

"Not at me." Tweak said, moving his scratching to the front of his chest. He grinned and basked in the knowledge that Craig could really never get mad at him over things like this. They were too close for that.

Kyle let out a sigh and stood up, "I think I'm going to go to the restroom, now that Tweaks not hogging it anymore." Kyle frowned at Tweak, jokingly.

"Hah, sorry Kyle, it's all yours," Tweak rubbed his palms up and down his face, letting out a long groan, "Jesus! I want to bake something! Can I make muffins?"

…

"….You are so fucking gay, Tweak," Eric barked, "How about you do something useful and make me a drink."

Kyle slipped out of the room quietly and made his way down the hall to the bathroom. As promised, it was empty and he went inside and locked the door shut behind him. He walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet, looking down at the stream of cool water. He gripped his hands on either side of the bowl and took in a long deep breath.

He was trying really hard not to let his melancholy show, but it was hard when all he could really focus on was how he was going to win back his best friend from one of the prettiest girls in school. He had been a few moments too late to stop Wendy from asking Stan out, but so what? What would he have done if he had been able to stop it? Would he have even done anything but stand there and watch. Would he have admitted to Stan how he felt?

Kyle looked at himself in the mirror. He had made sure to put himself together nicely. It wasn't every weekend he decided to really dress himself nicely. He had dropped his usual orange jacket and thick green ushanka for a much more modern look. He had slipped into a well fitted white button-up shirt and a green and a muted orange and green argyle vest. The look was completed with slender black jeans. It was a smart look, and fitted his sharp studious personality well and avoided looking as though he had just flung something together haphazardly. His usually unruly hair was toyed with, smoothed down to a manageable volume and sprayed into submission. He wondered what Stan would think of the outfit…or if he would even notice he put real effort into the look.

"Hey…Kyle…you aren't psyching yourself out in there, are you?" came a voice from the other side of the door. It was Kenny, knocking.

"I'm fine, Kenny." Kyle said, loudly, just wanting to be left alone.

"Kyle….baby…come on, is this about Stan?" Kenny was obviously intoxicated, he always got a lovey and goofy whenever he was in the early stages of inebriation, "talk to me, I've been trying to talk to you all day."

"Just go away, Kenny, go get me another drink or something…" he insisted, gritting his teeth. He really didn't want to talk to Kenny. He had been avoiding him since he had admitted his feelings about Stan, he just didn't know how to face him. He knew Kenny wouldn't hate him or judge him for it, but for some reason that just didn't make it feel any better.

"Fine…I'll get you a drink. How about rum and coke?"

"That's fine."

"okay then…" Kenny turned away from the door and stumbled towards the kitchen. He growled to himself. He had been trying to tell Kyle all afternoon about the way Stan felt about him, but he hadn't gotten a chance. The two of them hadn't been alone since school ended either, and there was no way of talking about it around the others. If Kyle would just have listened to him earlier, then he wouldn't be pouting in the bathroom.

"Oh well, it's my turn to relax anyways." Kenny thought as he moved to the kitchen and straight for the refrigerator. He was gunna mix up something fierce for himself and get that rum and coke for Kyle. There was nothing like some good old liquor to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He had earned it anyways, dealing with Stan and Kyle.

Cartman was leaning against the island counter, watching Kenny as he entered the kitchen. He had ben listening to the mostly one sided conversation as he had mixed himself a whiskey and Dr. Pepper. His calculative eyes flashed, taking the boys appearance up in one glance. He was wearing a clean black shirt under that ratty old orange hoodie. Why he wore that thing everywhere Eric would never know. Kenny still had a bandage, although a small one, plastered beneath his eye, that bruise was probably from one of his parents, Cartman knew how they were.

Eric didn't feel pity for Kenny, he didn't really feel anything towards him besides maybe that they could consider each other friends. They were fairly close. Close in the way that two hungry animals are close when they can cannot bring down a pray individually, but rather, must work together. Usually they were partners in crime, but when it came to the other boys, Kyle and Stan, Kenny was far too sentimental for them to see eye to eye on everything. Eric supposed that meant he had a heart, where he himself half only a black twisted root that wrapped around anything that he found interested or intriguing at the time.

It seemed that Kenny knew a few things, that shouldn't have surprised him. However it was sometimes hard not to see Kenny as a bumbling idiot with the way he usually acted. The fact of the matter was, however, that Kenny usually did know a lot more than he let on, and was closer to the other members of their four person group than he was. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. He wanted to know exactly how much Kenny did know, and if any of it would end up being useful.

"Is there something going on with Kyle?" Eric asked, watching Kenny mix his drinks.

"Oh, uh. No, he's fine." Kenny said, stilting over the issue.

"Oh? He seemed really down." Eric pushed, leaning towards Kenny a bit.

"Yeah well, since when do you care anyways?" Kenny's words may have seemed harsh to someone else, but this was just the way he and Kenny were with each other. Very to the point. Eric shrugged.

"I don't know. I just care now."

"You don't care. Caring is not a Cartman thing." Kenny pointed out, sipping his freshly prepared drink. He had settled on some pink lemonade, and pink lemonade vodka, girly but delicious.

"I do care. I like Kyle, we're friends." He said absently.

"Really now…" Kenny raised a brow. Even being somewhat inebriated he knew there was something rotten in Demark. Eric sipped his own drink. He stared, unblinking, at Kenny, eyes boring into him like daggers.

"right well, he's fine. He just wants to get a chance to talk to Stan tonight. You know they are trying to work out their friendship." Kenny said, turning back around with two drinks in his hand. Cartman smirked, he had gotten the information he wanted.

Kenny had been being secretive, and whatever the secret was it wasn't that Stan and Kyle were 'working on their friendship'. Why did he think this? He thought this because there was no way he would have given up the information that easily if there wasn't something else bigger, and juicier underneath it, and Eric wanted to know what it was.

Eric rounded the island counter and pressed himself to the wall on the other side of the hallway, listening to Kenny as he talked to Kyle through the bathroom door. He flattened himself there, trying to look as casual as possible in case anyone else entered the kitchen. He propped his elbow against the wallpaper and sipped idly at his drink, but all his focus was on the conversation around the corner.

Kenny knocked on the bathroom door again, "Come on, Kyle, I have your drink."

"I'll come out and get it later." Came the response.

"No, seriously, Kyle, we need to talk now. It's important, I need to tell you something before everyone gets here and we're all too drunk."

"Why?" came Kyle's voice again.

"God damn it, Kyle, open the fucking door." Kenny demanded. Finally Kyle gave in and the door opened. Eric couldn't see them, but he could hear the creek and then heard it shut again as Kyle dragged Kenny inside with him.

"Damn it." Cartman cursed. He wouldn't be able hear if that door was closed. He peeled himself off the wall and rounded the corner, looking around before pressing himself close to the door. He wasn't likely to get another chance like this.

Kyle pushed in the lock and turned to look at Kenny, exasperation evident in his voice. He huffed and folded his arms across his chest, looking cross. Kenny couldn't help but grin. It was just so cute, the way he pouted like he did.

"hehe….Kyle, you're hot, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Kenny!"

"Sorry-sorry, okay look, I have to tell you about Stan."

"What about Stan?" Kyle turned, away, and looked at himself in the mirror, picking absently at his teeth.

"Well, um," Kenny wasn't exactly sure where to begin, so he decided he might as well just come out with it, "you like Stan, right?" Kyle rolled his head back to look at Kenny and gave him a pointed stare.

"Come on, you know the answer to that."

"Right, okay well what if I told you that Stan sort of…liked you back?"

Kyle wheeled around, jade eyes wrenched wide open. He looked stunned, and weary all at once. His mouth fell open and his chest filled with a deep breath of disbelief. Kenny couldn't help but smile at that, he looked so stunned, that mean he really hadn't had any clue. How dense could he be to not have seen it.

"You can't be serious, Kenny," Kyle looked to the tile floor, "Stan likes Wendy, they are coming to the party together."

"Yeah, so they are coming to the party together, what of it, doesn't mean I am not telling the truth."

"But…you can't be…Stan practically hates me." Kyle wrung his fingers together. This couldn't possibly be true. Stan didn't feel the same way as he did, it just didn't add up. Stan had been avoiding him for weeks.

"He doesn't hate you. He's just confused."

"How do you even know?"

"He told me, Kyle, I'm being real about this. I swear it." Kenny's eyes pleaded. He really wanted Kyle to understand. Kyle looked distraught, this changed everything. It was all so much to take in at once. He had hardly accepted to himself the way he felt for Stan and now he was supposed to take in the fact that Stan liked him back.

Kyle leaned back against the sink, using it to steady himself. He pressed a palm to his forehead. He suddenly felt very dizzy.

"Oh my god, Kenny, this can't really be happening…"

"Oh…well, I'm pretty sure it's really happening, and he's probably going to be here in less than twenty minutes." Kenny said, peering at the clock above the toilet. Time really seemed to fly when you ingest alcohol.

"Tw-twenty minutes….." the color seemed to drain from Kyle's face. He wheeled around and began examining himself in the mirror, looking himself over as if his life depended on his appearance. Kenny shook his head slowly as he watched him.

"Kyle. I am pretty sure you could dip yourself in black tar and cover yourself in chicken feathers and Stan would still want you, chill out out." But Kyle did not chill out, instead he seemed to zoom through emotions faster than any PMSing chick he had ever seen. One moment he was giddy and happy the next he was overwhelmed and panicked. Kenny decided it would be in his own best interests if he just left the redhead alone for a little while to collect himself.

Kenny unlocked the door and pushed it open, slipping out quickly before shutting the door. He wondered, silently to himself, if he had done the right thing, telling Kyle. While he mused he turned his head, and to his surprise he saw Eric shuffling quickly towards the other end of the hall, moving at a retreating pace. The blond haired boy's eyes narrowed and he pulled his lips down in a hard frown.

"…Eric…" what was he up to…


	21. Chapter 21 LSD Costs 15 dollars a Hit

A/N: Sorry it has taken such a long time to update! I have been really busy lately, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I would like to have 4 comments before posting part 2 of this chapter!

Part 1:

Butters arrived a little after Clyde and Timmy, The amount of people began to torrent right when eight o'clock rolled around. Some kids had sworn to their parent's they were going to a study party, while still others claimed to be spending the night at a friend's place. It was the classic form of the south park high school class.

As usual, Butters was sporting just as many bruises and bandages as Kenny was. He was wearing a baggy blue sweater that was stretched wide around the collar, so much so that it slipped down off both shoulders, showing off the two matching bruises that purpled the sides of his collar bone. Kenny could see that he had used some of Marjorine's make-up to try and cover them up, it worked for the most part, but Kenny had already known they were there.

Kenny was careful not to give too much attention. He had managed, up to this point, to hide his relationship with Marjorine, he wasn't going to blow that now. He did his best not to burn a hole in Butter's head with his eyes, waiting for some glimpse of Marjorine. He figured his secret sweet heart would most likely not show up tonight, so long as there was no perceived threat, and the only threat around here was Eric Cartman, and it seemed pretty obvious to McCormick that Eric had other focuses for his mischief tonight.

"Hi fella's!" Butters cried, bouncing his way into the room. It was a miracle he had managed to get out. He looked fairly nervous, he probably was out under the pretenses of studying. When the bubbly blond dropped his book back down beside the couch Kenny's suspicions were confirmed.

"You've got to be shitting me, Butters…is that you're fucking book bag?" Tolken shook his head in disbelief. A few others laughed as well. Butters just frowned, feeling a bit dejected, he pressed a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks flushing pink.

"Well, uh, yeah Tolken, I figured I could do some homework while I'm here so I can show my parent's when I get back."

"Nope. No way, Butters. I'm confiscating this." Craig said, rounded the beer pong table and snatched up Butter's bag. Tolken grabbed butter by the shoulders as he tried to reach for it, protesting the sudden change in his plans. Craig shoved it into the closet and brushed his hands together as if having handled something dirty.

"But-but-but!"

Even at his protests Butter's was swallowed up by the arms of his friends, drawn into the swell of excitement as the music began a steady beat throughout the house. Everyone was busying themselves with something. The first game of beer pong was already well into it's second half. Tolken and Craig was creaming the very fucked up Tweak and Timmy to the point of embarrassment.

"I call next game." Kenny barked, raising up his glass, just as the doorbell rang. He would soon forget he even suggested playing beer pong.

"Please tell me that ladies are here….YES, the ladies are here," Tolken cheered, peering out the window with a broad grin. One of the girls waved and him and he waved back, giving a soft whistle, "and they look fiiine."

A gaggle of girls lead by the illustrious Bebe waltzed into the room in a cloud of squeals and giggles. Each one was done up like a Christmas present. Their lips were painted in all shades from deep crimson to soft blushing pink, their lashes were curled and necks soaked in silver baubles. They looked good, and they knew it. The party instantaneously became all about them.

Bebe's legs looks as if they had been dipped in milk. Her smart looking silk stockings seemed to drip over her firm shapely calves. They ran up about mid-thigh and then left a small stretch of flesh exposed before the frills of her pink skirt overtook it. Her hair was full and sleek, big golden curls that fell down about her slim shoulders. Kenny couldn't help but be distracted by all the long spidery spindles as they trotted inside, all perched on high heels as shiny and black as beetles.

Bebe immediately slid towards Kenny, her long dark lashes fluttering against the tops of her high cheekbones. She was smiling and that made Kenny smile in return, she was just so damn pretty with those bright green eyes all lined in black.

"Hey Ken," she said, reaching out a delicate hand and brushing perfectly manicured nails across his black shirt, "Why do you still have your jacket on, why don't you take it off and stay awhile." She flipped her bangs from her eyes and then aided him as he obediently shed his orange second skin.

"Hey Bebe, you look nice." He admitted, letting his eyes roam her.

"Oh thanks! You look good too, except this." She reached up and touched the band aid under his eye.

"Well thanks, I guess." He scoffed.

Eric watched as Kenny's watchful eye was finally distracted away from him. It was about time, he had things he needed to attend to. He had been sipping on a cup of tonic water for the last fifteen minutes, trying to look as if he were drinking just like everyone else. He put down his empty cup and stood up off the couch and began to make his way over to Tweak.

"Hey Eric," Red purred as she slipped in front of him, blocking his path to his goal. She was a whole foot or more shorter than he was, and about three times as small. She smiled wryly and clasped her hands together behind her back, "why don't you make me a drink?" she asked, her voice peeling out in a sultry purr.

"No." Eric said simply, pushing passed her. He had more important things to do than bother with her. Red gave a disbelieving gasp and pressed her hands to her hips as she watched him pass her.

"What a jerk." She scoffed, stomping over towards the beer pong table.

Tweak was sitting at the Kitchen, rolling a joint. A baggy of weed laid beside him on the counter with its contents spilled out around his nimbly working fingers. Eric had to wonder how he managed to work the rolling paper as if surgically trained. He was fast to, and though his hands shook most of the time on a regular basis, they did not shake while he folded the inch and a half over itself.

"Hey there Tweak." Cartman said, his voice dripping honey. He pushed splayed fingers through his brown hair and then sunk his elbows down to the surface in front of Tweak. He grinned, trying to catch his attention.

"Gah! Jesus! Don't-don't startle me like that!" Tweak jolted backwards, fumbling with the joint and nearly tipping his stool over backwards. Eric used to startle Tweak on purpose all the time, but with every attempt being success the novelty leaked out of it fairly quickly.

"Sorry. Hey, Tweak," Eric smiled his most winning, persuasive smile, "you have any coke left?" Tweak looked at him and raised a brow.

"Uh, well I have about a line left, I was going to give it to Craig." Tweak pulled back his lips and pulled down the corners as if to say "tough luck". Eric was not a beginner negotiator. He dipped his fingers into his jean pocket and pulled out his wallet, eyeing the bills.

"Or you could sell it to me, along with whatever else you got." Cartman licked his thumb before thumbing through the row of twenties.

"Shiiit, Eric, can you afford that? I've got," Tweak emptied out his pocket in a hurry and spread his hand over the contents, "hmm, that looks like two hits of ecstasy, a dime of coke, and the rest of this weed, which is about a dime also. Oh yeah and this one hit of acid."

"how about seventy- five bucks."

"Deal." The exchange was smooth and when it was complete tweak ran his tongue along the length of his last joint before pulling out a lighter, "good doing business with you, Eric." He said, grinning. Eric caught his shoulder before he could leave the kitchen, however.

"Tweak, have you sold to anyone else at the party yet?"

"uh, no, haven't had a chance to, and you just bought everything I have. I figured I would have a nicer stash for this party but, well, things are dry on the circuit lately."

"So, then Craig doesn't have anything else either?"

"Uh, no…like I said, things have been dry."

Eric grinned and removed his hand from Tweak's shoulder. SO… he was the only one here with anything more illegal than alcohol. Just as he had planned it. He looked down at his handful of drugs and his smile grew more devious than ever. Things were working out exactly as he had planned them.

Stan noticed that there was a bit of a skip in Wendy's step. He could tell because their arms were locked together, her idea. It was far too cold, in Stan's opinion, to be walking but Wendy was one of those health conscious people and often would choose these sorts of routs to maintain her figure. He couldn't disagree that it did keep her looking fit.

For the party, Wendy had bought a new outfit, she and Bebe had gone out together shopping and both had spent more money than they had intended. She wore a tight fitting white sweater with a tailored purple skit all done up in ruffles. Her shoes were simple three inch heels, nothing as dramatic as the baby-doll-lolita style that Bebe liked to pull off. Still, none the less she looks beautiful.

Stan was dressed simply, he hadn't gone out and bought anything new, nor had he spent much time picking his outfit. He was wearing a fitted red T-shirt that displayed a twisting black design that ran the length of both shoulders and spilled down the back into an open mouthed skull. He had brushed his hair and picked out his nicest belt, simple black with studs. He had chosen to pair it with a pair of extra dark wash jeans, wore in around the knees a bit but overall wearable, and maybe even fashionable.

The difference in the appearance of the two went unnoticed by Wendy, but Stan could see it plane as noses. Together as a couple they both looked lost, they looked mismatched and awkward. He of course, would say nothing about this, but instead went on listening to the droll of Wendy's voice as she talked about something he really wasn't interested in.

"Wendy! Stan! Oh, Stan you cleaned up nice didn't you, come on in the rest of the Basketball Team is already here!" Bebe chimed, being the first one to the door and the first one to greet. At every party Bebe made sure that she was the honorary and unofficial hostess. Unwarranted self-importance if you asked Stan.

"Hey Bebe!" Wendy said, excitedly, plastering on her party smile, something that wouldn't leave her face until she got home and could unhinge it. Stan didn't even bother, his smile was mediocre at best, obviously forced. It did amaze him at how at ease Wendy seemed. She bopped into the social scene with ease, weaving her hips to the music and nodding her head as she dragged him in towards the rest of the group by his fingers.

Immediately Stan's eyes honed onto Kyle. The Jewish boy's back was to him, he hadn't noticed him come in. He was in mid laugh, talking to Kenny, both with a drink in their hands. Kenny had a hand on the red head's shoulder and was rubbing it gently. That should not have bothered Stan, but it did.

Maybe it was because of how sleek Kyle was dressed, or maybe it was the way he had styled his hair, but Stan couldn't stop staring at him. He couldn't remember Kyle ever looking better. He seemed to glow beneath the artificial lights and his laugh seemed to piece through the rest of the noise and float directly to Stan's ears. He loved it when Kyle laughed, it was always so genuine. Kyle was one of those few genuine people in the world. When he was sad, he cried. When he was happy, he laughed, and there was no mincing of those emotions. Stan wished he could be like that.

"He Kyle." The redhead knew that voice anywhere. It was strong, and it had that twinge of darkness that Kyle had come to truly adore over the many years of their long and turbulent friendship. He turned, and bright green eyes found the blustery blues of his 'sometimes super best friend'. The best friend that he had, less than an hour ago, discovered had the same feelings he did. How does one segway into that conversation?

"Oh h-hi, Stan, nice shirt," …you look nice. Of all the poetic things he could have said he said 'nice shirt'. Kyle felt like kicking himself. As he was thinking about all the lovely, sexy things he could have said to try and see a spark of the emotions hidden behind that strong, emotionless face he noticed that the Stan hadn't approached him alone, ", hi Wendy, you look nice."

"Thanks, Kyle! I really like your vest, it's so classy! You look like a Harvard grad student." Wendy beamed at him. She looked so happy. For the first time since Kyle had accepted his feeling for Stan he felt guilty. He felt guilty that his intentions were to snag the Basketball player out from under Wendy's nose as fast and as furiously as was humanly possible. He would be destroying that happy smile. Likewise, he noticed that Stan was not smiling. For someone who had just started dating a beautiful girl, he didn't seem the most thrilled. Was it bad that he saw that as a fantastic sign?

"Haha, thank's Wendy, I think."

"Oh it's a compliment, I promise." She clarified, patting the boys elbow with one hand, as she hugged herself particularly close to Stan with her other arm. The three stood there, Kenny looking between them silently before quietly slipping away to talk to Butter's and Bebe on the other side of the room. He wanted to stay out of this one, he had done his part.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then a miracle happened.

"Wendy! Come over here, you promised we would do snake bites!" Red called, leaning around the corner of the kitchen with her hand cupped around her mouth.

"Oh okay, but really? Tequila this early?"

"Yeah, girl! Go big or go home! Now come get a lime!" Red lifted up a shenanigan's shot glass filled with clear liquid and then disappeared behind the wall. Wendy gave Stan a nudge, an apologetic smile, and then leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Sorry, I better got hang with the girls for a little while. You'll be okay won't you, Stan?"

"Uh…sure." Stan said, unhooking his arm from hers. With that Wendy turned on her heels and waltzed off to do the girl thing. Stan and Kyle were left alone, standing in the corner of a room that had erupted in an explosion of conversation, games, music, and dancing as more and more people backed their way into Craig's house.

"So, uh…I was in line for beer pong…I don't have a partner yet-do you want to-" Kyle's words seemed to come out disjointed. His nerves were getting the better of him.

"Sure, uh…I mean yes." Stan responded, a bit too quickly. Red smeared both their faces. Stan shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away from Kyle's hypnotic eyes, looking to see who was already playing beer pong. It was Eric Cartman and Jimmy, versus Craig and Tweak and with how flustered Eric looked he must have been loosing.

"God damn it Jimmy," Cartman whined, tipping back a quarter cup of beer, "you can't shoot worth shit you fucking cripple!"

"Fuck you Eric, you haven't even gotten o-o-one shot, you fat piece of shit." Jimmy retorted as he lined himself up for his shot.

"At least I can go up and down stares!" Eric shoved the ping pong ball into Jimmys hand with a growl, "I quit, I don't want to paly anymore."

"If you quit, Cartman, than you have to drink all your cups and all of ours." Craig said simply.

"Fuck that, I'm not drinking all your cups." He begrudgingly snatched back the ball and lined up for his shot. Kyle pushed a hand against his lips, giggling as he watched Cartman narrow his eyes in concentration.

"That ass-hat…" Stan grumbled, glancing from the fat boy to the ginger at his side. He was shaking his head, his red curls bouncing against his temples. His glance met Stan's and they shared a silent moment of mutual dislike for the large blustery football player.

The ping pong game went on for another ten or so minutes, and still Eric and Jimmy ended up having to drink all the cups, Cartman being the only one of the pair to be a furiously sore looser about the whole thing.

'Okay, Fat-ass it's our turn." Kyle chimed, grinning as he pulled the wet ping pong ball out of the water cup, and shook it dry. Eric wheeled on Kyle, and his eyes move rapidly between the red head and the tall noirette.

"Oh, so you did show up, Stan." Eric said, his eyes screaming hate, but his lips curled into a smile. Cartman pushed a few shocks of light brown hair back from his hawk like eyes. His predatory glare burned into Stan's, a silent challenge.

"Yeah. I showed up." Stan said, stiffly, not buckling even a small bit under Eric's gaze. Sparks seemed to fly between them, and certainly not in a romantic way. Stan might not have known was Cartman was up to, but something about the way the bigot was acting, and had been acting for awhile, just gave him the creeps.

"Right…uh, okay well lets this next game going!" Kyle said, loudly, clapping his hands together, trying to distract the two boys from there staring contest, "I'm going to go make us each a drink, too Stan, you just got here so you have some catching up to do." Kyle gestured to the disarray of solo cups on the table, "do you mind setting up?"

"Sure I don't mi-" Stan was cut off half way through his response by Cartman, who piped up immediately, smiling broadly. Something about his smile didn't look right, but then again this was something conditioned by many years of knowing the brunette.

"Let me get you guys the drinks, I'm going in there anyways, anyone else want something?" Eric didn't leave time for Kyle or Stan to protest, already others were raising their hands. Cartman began taking orders and then disappeared into the kitchen, ignoring all the orders he had received and blurting out loudly that he would be "surprising everyone" with what he made them.

Kyle and Stan looked at each other and then Kyle shugged, turning to begin reordering the longitudinal pyramid. Stan looked after Eric for a little while longer before turning back to the table to help Kyle.

The game went on for awhile before Eric returned with six or so cups crammed into his arms. A semi circle of on lookers had crowded around the table, shouting and cheering on their respective teams. Stan sunk every single shot he took, rocketing himself and Stan into an enormous lead. He was so good at what he was doing that people began requesting shots.

"Hey Stan! Try and bounce it off of this!" Tolken exclaimed, turning over a cup and setting it mouth down on the table. Stan cleared his throat and glanced over at Kyle, as if asking permission. Kyle only grinned and nodded his head encouragingly.

The basketball player rolled the small plastic ball around in his fingers and then lined up his shot. He took a deep breath in and then let it out. As the breath left his lips and came to the point when no more air was left in his lungs, he made the shot.

"Gee Wiz Stan, You are really good at this!" Butters cried, clapping his hands and bouncing up and down. Kenny, who was standing behind him followed the ball his eyes as it rounded the rim of the center cup and then plopped in. He shook his head slowly, and clapped right along with the rest of everyone else. Stan really was a star, there was no denying that. A few members of the basketball team came up around Stan and patted him on the back, shaking his shoulders with pride.

"Wicked shot, man!" said Brandon, "We all gotta celebrate that one!" Everyone agreed. Even Stan had to admit that it was a pretty good shot, and he found himself smiling despite himself. He took a deep breath, and settled his stiff shoulders down a bit. It was strange, remembering what it had felt like to be…well…to be him. The him that he had pushed away when all those confusing feelings begin popping up.

"You did a good job!" Kyle reached out a hand and ran it down the length of Stan's strong arm. Stan sucked in a sharp breath, and dropped his eyes. The event seemed to happen in slow motion. He watched as Kyle's soft pale fingers ran the length of his upper arm, against the crook of his elbow, and then down his forearm. Those lean fingers sported freckles just like the rest of him, and then seemed to linger along the back of his wrist. By the time Stan looked up again, his eyes came immediately to meet Kyle's magnetic greens. The moment of their eyes staring deeply into each other seemed to linger on forever, but in reality it was only for a moment.

"Hey, faggot, here's your drink." Both boys wheeled their head around, eyes wide, only to see Eric standing there with a drink in each hand. Stan cleared his throat, glancing between the drinks. He reached out to take one, only for Cartman to lift them away from the stretching fingers," Not so fast, that one's Kyle's."

"Oh great, what did you put in mine, Eric?" Kyle snapped, wrinkling his nose.

"Nothing, Kyle...I didn't put anything in your drink. " Eric grinned with sickening sweetness.

"Okay then, fine fat-ass how about you take a drink of it first then!" Kyle demanded, pointing to the red solo cup as Eric passed the other to Stan.

"Fine, I would be happy to, you paranoid little Jew rat." Eric tipped the drink back against his lips and took an audible slurp before passing it to Kyle. The red head blinked a few times, then narrowed his eyes, still cautious. Finally Kyle grumbled and took a draft from the cup.

"Wow, Cartman, this is actually pretty good. Stan you should try this"

"Why thank you, Kyle…"

"What's in this?"

"It's pink lemonade, tequila, pinapple juice, and gador-aid" Cartman said, leaned down a bit and hovered his nose over the glass,

Is mine the same thing, Eric?" Stan asked, raising a brow at the pleasant odor of the drink.

Yes it is, how about the three of us chug, it will be fun." Eric reached around to grab his own cup off the beer pong table and help it up. Stan and Kyle both shrugged and brought their drinks up.

"Oh goody, a toast!" Butters bounced forward and lifted his cup up with theirs, not far behind him was Kenny, who threw an arm over Stan's shoulder and lifted his shot glass up beside the cups. Everyone looked around at each other. "How amaxing" Kyle thought. This might just couldn't have gotten better for him. Everything was working in his favor and it looked like the rest of the night was going to continue to be just as amazing.

"Here's to Honor. Here's to getting in her and getting on her. If you can't cum inner' come on'er" Kenny said, his words slurring together. Butters broke out into a fit of laughter that only died down when Eric finally began speaking the real toast.

"Here's to Stan, may he stay with us from now on." His voice was loud and his lips were curled back in a snarl of a grin. His mind squirmed like a toad and his eyes sparkled with predatory viciousness as everyone tipped back their cups and swigged on their drinks. Cartman drank a little too, watching as Stan gulped down his drink. Things were about to go down hill, and fast. 


	22. Chapter 22 Goodbye Stan

A/N: Hello everyone! I wanted to thank all of you for taking this long journey with me! This is the last chapter of the first story! I hope you have all enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing!

"Awwww, Craig, he is so cute!" Butter's stood up on the tips of his toes and reached his hand up to stroke the fluffy little creature perched on top of Craig's head. The guine pig stuck out it's little nose and pressed it against one of Butter's extended fingers. It the retreated and padded across the plane of the host's black hair. Craig felt the brown and white guinea scamper and reached up to pluck him off the top of his head.

"Yeah, Patches is the best guinea pig ever." He stroked a hand over it's back while Butter's wiggled his finger in the rodent's face. With a single decisive moment the guinea pig opened it's little mouth and clamped down on the tip of his nail.

"OW! Geez! Ahhhh Craaaig, he bit me!" Butter's yanked his hand back and pressed his finger to his lips, eyes watering a bit. He sniffed a few times, looking at the fluffy pet with a very hurt expression.

"You shouldn't have shoved your hand into his face." Craig said, raising a brow slightly, continuing to stroke his pet's back. Red had just wandered over to shove her own finger in the rodents face when there was suddenly a loud crash. In response, patches darted off the top of Craig's head and scampered down his arm, leaping clean off his knuckles and landing with a thud on the carpet of the living room.

"Shit! Patches, get back here!" Craig said, animation creeping into his lifeless voice as he chased the retreating fluff ball. He grabbed after it desperately, but to no avail. His pet zoomed under the couch, disappearing into the darkness.

"Fuck, what the hell!" Craig growled, shooing people off the couch, completely oblivious to the scene going on behind him, the cause of the ruckus.

Kenny held his cheek in his hand, his lips curled back in an angry snarl, teeth gritted together. His eyes were narrowed into furious azure slits. His gaze was honed on Stan, who's fist was still raised threateningly. He could feel the bruise rising up on his cheek already, and the pain was beginning to come in thick throbs.

"WHAT THE FUCK, STAN?" Kyle gasped, throwing his hands over his mouth. He looked at Stan with wide disbelieving eyes. He wasn't sure what exactly had just happened, it seemed like out of nowhere Stan had just snapped. Kenny had been leaning over Kyle's shoulder, and then all of a sudden Stan's fist connected with his face, knocking him back several stumbling feet.

"you keep your hand's off him." Stan's voice was stony, and his words slipped from his lips in a strange unnatural flow. His eyes looked glassy but his nose was wrinkled in apparent fury. He uncurled his fist and reached out both hands, wrapping up his fingers in Kenny's shirt, "You FUCKING ASS HOLE!" He roared, growling in Kenny's face.

"Stan! Let him go!" Kyle wrapped his hands around one of the noirette's large biceps. He yanked and yanked but Stan was an immovable force, with strength far surpassing the smaller redheads. Kyle wasn't sure what to do, He was cast helplessly to the side as he watched Stan drive forward, thrusting Kenny's back, hard, into the nearest wall. Kenny's head smacked back against the hard surface with a sickening crack, and for a moment the pain reflected in his face. The wind seemed to be knocked out of him, and he was being held an inch from the floor. Stan may have been a strong guy, but he was not the violent type at all, Half the party was staring in disbelief at the sudden outburst, most wondering what Kenny could have done to make him so angry.

Kenny wrapped his hands around Stan's wrists, trying to pull them off him, to no avail. He was seeing stars, and the aching drum in his head was excruciating. What had he done to warrant such a response from Stan, and why was he calling him Cartman? The real Eric Cartman was several feet away, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen with his arms folded calmly across his chest, watching the scene with what seemed like mild interest.

"I'm not, Eric, you crazy fuck!" Kenny roared, sending a hard kick between Stan's legs. The connection was fierce and Stan immediately buckled, fingers crumbling away from Kenny. The smaller boy dropped down to the floor, landing nimbly on the balls of his feet. With surprising agility he reached out and grabbed the back of Stan's head, coiling his fingers up in his dark hair. He pulled downward and at the same time jarred his knee up, colliding with Stan's cheek and the side of his nose.

The two boys fell apart, panting. Stan was holding his bleeding nose in his hands and Kenny was pressing a palm to his bruised cheek. Both looked absolutely furious, but neither seemed too keep on going back into the ring with each other. Kenny might have been small but he moved with such grace that it was hard to not wonder if he had formal training. Stan, on the other hand, was just one hell of a heavy hitter. His muscles were all extremely obvious and he punched like a mule. The two did not need to be fighting.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Stan?" Kenny demanded.

"Yeah, what the hell has gotten into you?" Kyle said, his voice near breathless. The three boys were now demanding the attention of everyone nearby, except for a small handful of people who were looking around desperately for the lost guiniepig. Butter's was latched onto Kyle's left side like a leech. He seemed to be completely holding his breath. Stan looked into all of their faces, his teeth still bared, and his eyes wild. Kyle had never seen such an expression on him before.

"THIS, slipped out of your pocket, Kenny," Stan said, his shoulders heaving with his heavy breath. He lifted one hand away from his face and held up a slightly crumpled slip of paper. There was a number written across it and a few words. It had the number and name of the Rehab center the two boys had been considering sending Stan too, and the note said something very much along those lines. Stan looked livid.

"Stan, that was just, Kenny was just-" Kyle was sputtering over his words, trying desperately to diffuse the situation, but Stan was too drunk and too pissed off to be talked down.

"Oh don't give me that shit, KYLE, this is YOUR hand writing after all. I see you were both in on it. Trying to send me away, hu, I guess just ditching out on me wasn't enough, you had to get me even further away?" Stan crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it into the corner. With another angry glare at the two of them he threw up his hands and stormed into the kitchen, leaving the two boys stunned, in the middle of the party which was already recovering from the sudden overspill of drama. It was nothing too unusual for a high school bash.

"Found him!" Bebe squealed, crawling out from behind the couch with a fluffy, shivering mass in her hands. The party guests gradually dispersed from the circle they had made around Kenny and Kyle, leaving only the two boys and Butters. Butter's pulled away from Kyle and touched the side of Kenny's face.

"Oh hamburgers, it looks like it's really bruising up. I can get you some ice for that if you want." Butter's hovered around Kenny, looking concerned. Kenny was silent for a long moment, staring at the floor with a ridged, stony expression. Then he lifted a hand and wrapped it around Butter's wrist, squeezing tight enough to make the other boy wince. He didn't look up when he spoke.

"I don't need ice. I'm used to this," His tone was dark, "I get this all the time at home." Butter's entire form softened. He knew what it was like to be hit. He knew what it was like to feel like there's no escape. Something had been triggered inside of Kenny, his usual self seemed to dissolve. That other side of him, the one that he relied on when protecting himself, and protecting Karen, was now present. Mysterion may not have been another personality, like Marjorine was for Butter's, but the principles remained the same.

Kenny looked up at Butter's face then, their blue eyes meeting. Kenny wanted Marjorine to be the one looking back at him. She wasn't there. Butters face was still a comforting sight, and Kenny felt his iciness melting away slowly at the sight of his blushing dimples.

"Kenny…are you going to be okay?" Kyle asked, he too reaching up to touch his injured friend's face. Any other circumstance and Kenny would be in heaven, two beautiful people stroking on him. On this particular date and time, however, the situation did not allow for much enjoyment.

On the other side of the room, Eric stalked in the shadows, allowing everything to play out as he had planned it. It had been over a week ago since he had found that slip of paper in Kenny's hoodie pocket. Hell, the kid never cleaned them out and he wore it all the time. He also would haphazardly throw it down everywhere without regard. It hadn't been difficult to snag it while looking for anything interesting or incriminating. He had then casually dropped it to the floor at the exact time he had stepped, hard, on one of Stan's feet while walking past. It was almost TOO easy. Almost as easy as getting Stan so fucking strung that anything would set him off.

"I'm fine." Kenny said, that darkness still evident in his voice.

"..okay…I need…I need to go talk to Stan."

"Talk to Stan. Kyle, he's no good, you should just let him go." Butter's said, pulling his lips down in a deep frown.

"I…can't." Kyle replied, his whole form drooping. Butter's gave Kyle an empathetic look, as if he understood. With a nod to both blonds, Kyle turned around and headed for the kitchen. Eric watched him go as he crossed the threshold, bending down to pick up the crumpled paper. He looked down at it, flattening the paper with his thumb.

"hmmmm…." Eric thought as he looked at it, and suddenly, something new clicked inside his brain, "oh my God…it's so perfect." Getting Stan so drunk that he would make a complete fool of himself in front of everyone was a snap, classic. Getting him so messed up on drugs that he would end up hurting Kyle or Kenny or both and make them never want to talk to him again was another plus, but this…this idea was beyond amazing. It all lined up like perfect little rivets on a pretty little coffin.

Each moment of fury was reflected in Cartman's predatory stare. He moved like all hunters do, deliberately, but with an air of casualty that only a professional sneak can manage. Kyle made a good antelope to his lion. Long legged, lean, flighty. Eric waited for him to spring after the 'damaged' Stan Marsh and as soon as the move was made he was on him, sliding in front of him like a wave.

"whoa, whoa, what are you in such a rush for?" He asked, that sweetness in his voice.

"I have to go talk to Stan, I have to explain-I just need to talk to him."

"How about you let me talk to him, I mean, I'm not really a part of this so maybe he will listen to me."

"Do you even know whats going on, Cartman?" Kyle said, exasperated. He pushed a hand against Eric's shoulder, trying to move past him, but the larger boy didn't budge.

"Of course I know what's going on, I saw everything." Kyle listened, folding his arms across his chest. What was with people always getting in his way whenever he wanted to go to Stan, it was like everyone in the whole world was against him.

"Fine. Fine. You go talk to him then." Kyle through up his hands and stormed off back towards the beer pong table.

Kyle leaned his hands on the side of the table and hung his head, casting a shadow across his face, which was contorted in frustration.

"There's always drama. At every party, there is always drama, and you know what else? It usually revolves around you, or Stan, or Kenny, or Cartman. Sometimes I ask myself why everyone continues to invite you to everything." Craig's voice drifted to Kyle from where he sat on the arm of the couch. Kyle rolled his head to the side, peering through a few coils of auburn hair.

"…I know, it surprises me too." Kyle admitted, blinking his big jade eyes. Craig stared into them as he stroked Patches back, the little creature stretching in the palm of his hand, giving a broad mouthed yawn.

"Well, you are probably the one that causes the least amount of drama, Kyle, but a lot of drama sure dose follows you around. It's like you're a huge magnet." Craig spoke, even as he looked out over the rest of the party. Not many seemed to be phased by the 'Stan-isode' except for maybe Kenny who was sitting on the couch getting his cheek tended to by Butter's. He still looked stoic. Everyone else was bouncing around, laughing and grinding.

"…I know." Kyle slumped against the table, groaning a bit. He didn't need Craig making him feel even worse than he already did.

"So, you really like Stan, don't you." Craig lifted Patches up onto his shoulder, and held out a sunflower seed for him between his fingers.

"He's my best friend." Kyle said, dully, watching the guinea pig chew.

"Is he?"

"Yes, he is still my best friend. Just because things are rough right now doesn't mean he hates me." Kyle wrinkled his nose. He hated how Craig could just stand there, emotionless, when all he himself felt like doing was exploding in a firework of ambivalence.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Kyle was getting more frustrated by Craig with every passing moment.

"I meant, you really…LIKE…him." Craig's emphasis was unmistakable. Kyle's eyes widened, and flashed back to meet Craig's. Craig's eyes always looked a bit glazed over, as if he was never really fully there. However this time, that glaze seemed to hide something deeper, more intelligent. The ginger was lost for words.

"You think that I….you think I like, like, Stan?"

"No." Craig smirked.

"Then what!" Kyle couldn't hide the anger rising up inside of himself.

"I KNOW that you like him." Craig folded his own arms across his chest and looked down his nose at the blustering redhead.

"How, how could you possibly know something like that?" Kyle barked, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink.

"It really isn't that difficult to figure out, when you know what to look for." Craig glanced across the room.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey Tweak, come here." Craig yelled, cupping a hand around his mouth. Tweak, who was standing in the corner, jumped. He wheeled around, startled. He looked around and finally locked eyes with Craig. Immediately he weaved his fingers together around his cup and hastened to the hosts side. Craig reached out and wound an arm around the boys hip, drawing him closer.

Kyle watched, his eyes following Craig's fingers as they dove beneath the olive green plane of the blonds shirt. Tweak sucked in a sharp breath, going pink just like Kyle. He cast his eyes around nervously and suddenly everything fell into place for Kyle.

"You mean…you and Tweak?" his mouth fell open in disbelief.

"mhm, for over four months now." Craig confirmed. Tweak, lifted his cup to his lips and took a long swig before speaking.

"Oh so we are telling everyone now?" Tweak asked, staring up at the ceiling. He was a strange bird.

"No, Just Kyle. I was just asking him about Stan."

"Oh right, like about what we were talking about the other day. Yeah, Kyle, you two were made to be together." Tweak confirmed. Tweak squirmed at Craig's touch and pulled the other boys hands away from him, glancing around to make sure no one say their public display of affection. Kyle was in awe, He couldn't believe what he had just heard, what he had just seen. He wasn't the only guy in school fawning over another guy, and he wasn't the first. He couldn't believe that Craig and Tweak had been together for months and he had never known, or heard anything about it. He had to know more about their relationship.

"Stan, stop it," Wendy pushed her hands against Stan's chest, forcing him an arms length away from her. He had her pinned against the wall, and anything less than all her strength would not had gotten him off. Stan stumbled back a step or two, his hand falling away from Wendy's breast. He listed to the side, reaching out to catch himself on the wall beside his girlfriend's head, "What has gotten into you?" she snapped, straightening out her top.

Stan shook his head a bit, reaching up a hand and pressing it to his brow. Everything was spinning, he could barely make out Wendy's face, in fact, he hadn't even realized it was her until just that moment. He blinked hard a few times and squinted his eyes, trying to make her face stop undulating.

"Wendy, uh...i'm sorry." He said, his words coming out with strange spacing and unclear syntax, "I don't know...I feel…weird." He rolled to the side and leaned his back into the wall. For a moment he felt as though he was sinking into it, the wall literally sucking him in and wrapping around him. The sensation made him jerk himself off the wall, wheeling around in a panic, "Whoa! What the FUCK was that?" He yelped, his fear suddenly slopping down into a laughter that was half from amusement and half from having only a vague clue as to what was going on around him.

Wendy furrowed her brow and brushed off the front of her skirt before moving over Stan and taking away his solo-cup. She looked down into it and shook her head, empty. She knew he had to already be drunk, how embarrassing.  
>"Stan, I want you to stay right here, okay, I think you've had enough to drink," She lead him over to the island in the middle of the kitchen and had him press his hands to the top of the counter. Stan nodded his head, his mouth hanging open slightly. He didn't seem to really comprehend what it was she was saying to him. Could he really be that drunk. It seemed so, "I'm going to go find Kyle."<p>

"Kyle? Yeah, I want to go see , no wait no I don't . He's a piece of shit. Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck Kenny." Stan said, words slurring together. He tried to take a step after Wendy, but stumbled. She lead him back to the island and raised her voice a bit, trying to sound adamant."

"No, Stan. You stay right here, I'm going to bring Kyle in here." And with that she hurried off to retrieve the redhead, unaware of the incident that had happened in the living room. Just as she exited, Eric entered, eyes honed in on his prey. It was almost to easy.

"You don't look so good, Stan…how about I get you some water." Eric purred, moving to the sink, turning the faucet on over an empty solo cup.

"It's fucked up man, It's so fucked up! How could they try to send me to rehab? Like I'm some stupid drunk *hic*."

"Yeah, that's pretty messed up, they don't sound like real friends. I would never do that to a friend." Eric said as he pulled a few pills from his pocket. Stan didn't notice, he was weaving from side to side, barely able to stand. Eric wrapped the pills up in a napkin and pressed the bottom edge of an empty beer bottle overtop of them, crushing them into a fine powder before pouring the dust into the cup. He stirred it with his finger and then turned to face the already completely dissociated basketball player.

"I thought they were my friends! I thought. I thought Kyle was….I want to see Kyle." Stan made a pathetic leap for the foryer, but Cartman reached out and yanked him back to the island by his shoulder, using a bit more force than was necessary, making the other boy's back thud against the corner, hard.

"No, here, drink this first, Stan, it will help. I insist." Eric passed the cup into Stan's limp hand and helped him wrap his fingers around it. Stan didn't seem to know what to do with the cup so Eric helped lift it to his lips, "drink." He commanded. Stan obeyed, downing the glass in a few gulps.

"That tasted…that tasted-" Stan stammered. Eric patted him on the back, laughing softly.

"Tasted like alcohol probably, you've had so much that you can't even taste water."

"N-no..i didn't drink that much." Stan protested weakly.

"Yes you did. You had more than you think." Eric insisted, squeezing his fingers into Stan's shoulder. He stared into the dull sparkles eyes of his 'victim' and couldn't help but smile. He really was a genius, a genius that always got what he wanted, and this time would be no different. He had no qualms in taking out anyone who got in his way.

"Eric…" Stan suddenly reached out and grabbed the front of the larger boys shirt as his knees went week, "I don't feel…I'm..." Stan went down, his legs gave out from under him and the only thing keeping him from dropping to the floor was Eric's grip on his shoulder, which was removed promptly, allowing the dark haired boy to slide to the floor.

Eric smiled down at Stan's crumpled form, staring deeply in the wide frightened eyes that looked up at him. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cheer at his victory, he reveled in his own form that was reflected back at him from Stan's glassy eyes.

"That will teach you to get in my way, won't it you little fuck." Eric said loftily.

"You…" Stan breathed. Eric smirked and crouched down over top of him, looking him over from head to toe.

"That's right. Me. It's always me, Stan. You think you would realize that by now with how long we have known each other. It's always me, and you know what? There is nothing you can do about it. You're going to wake up in the hospital hooked up to all sorts of machines, and people will say 'poor Stan, he did it to himself.' Maybe you shouldn't have drank so much, maybe you shouldn't have taken all those drugs. Drugs are bad, don't you know?" Eric patted Stan's cheek with his hand as he chided him. Stan's teeth were gritted together.

"Why." Was the only thing that Stan could force from his lips. He could barely comprehend what Eric was saying to him. Why had Eric done this to him?

"Why? Because you got in my way. You see, Stan you're not going to die here. Nope, I was very precise about what I gave you and how much. This is the genius of my plan. You are going to wake up and then you are going to be sent off to rehab for all those nasty habits you've been forming, like that drinking problem. Everyone knows you have a problem, Stan. You could blame me, but who do you think will believe a drunk piece of shit like you? No one. Oh yeah, and Kyle likes you by the way, not that you'll ever have a shot with him now. You really are pathetic."

"He's right in-OH MY GOD! STAN?" Wendy rounded the entrance to the kitchen. She was leading Kyle, and Kenny was close behind when she turned and was nearly floored by what she saw. Stan was writhing on the floor, Eric leaning over him a sudden look shock rising on his face.

"Someone call 9-1-1. He just collapsed!" Eric said, his voice urgent. Stan was trying to speak but he couldn't form the words. He looked scared, panic evident on his face. His eyes rolled around in his head. He was incapable of saying anything.

"Oh my God! Stan, Stan can you hear me?" Kyle was in a frenzied panic. His best friend was having some sort of fit right in front of him. All the times Stan had helped him and now what could he do? He pulled out his cell phone to make the call.

Stan was fading. Everything in the whole world seemed to be imploding upon him. Nothing made sense. All he knew was that shadows were descending upon him. The lights seemed so bright, too bright. Everything faded out into an uncomfortable blur, he couldn't make out shapes, only hear voices saying things that didn't quite make sense. He did recognize Wendy's voice, and then Kyle's, and he knew that hands were falling all over him. Then everything went black.

A/N: THE END…. Just Kidding. This chapter marks the beginning of another arc. This story has just begun! In fact, you could even say that everything you have read up to this point was to build up for the next section of this story. To find out what happens to Stan, Kyle, and the rest of the gang you will need to stay tuned for part 2.


	23. Chapter 23 Where is Stan?

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that we are unable to confirm nor deny whether anyone with that name is admitted into our progr-"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah I KNOW!" Kyle cut off the practiced, droning voice of the receptionist on the other other end of the line with a sharp stab of words before slamming the telephone back down onto the receiver with a loud clang. He shoved his mass of curly hair down into his hands and let out a frustrated roar. Every time he tried to call the local rehabilitation clinic it was always the same, no one would tell him anything about what had happened to Stan. He had tried calling the hospital, the morgue and even Stan's house, but nobody seemed to what to say anything.

There was no answer at Stan's house, the phone went straight to voicemail. On the recording Stan's parents, in a very monotone voice, explained that they were away on vacation to Denver, which made no sense. Vacation, at the beginning of the week? Something was up and there was nobody was willing to fill him in.

It had been over a day since the parties extremely blunt end and everyone he knew was on thin ice with their parents because of the events. He himself hadn't even suffered a third of the time he was grounded for. If he was lucky he might be ungrounded in time for Christmas…three years from now.

"How could he do this to me?" Kyle mumbled into his knees as he pressed his forehead down against his legs. He remained bent like that against himself as he sat in the armchair beside the phone, feeling the same mixture of anger and worry had had been plagued with all weekend. Stan had abandoned him…again…right when things were beginning to look up. Right when things had begun to make some kind of sense he had pulled another crazy stunt and made everything even worse than it had been when they began. Why had he even pursued Stan to begin with, why was he still doing everything he could to find out what had happened to him. Part of him, deep inside where the anger bubbled, wanted to abandon him too. That furious part of him wanted to hurl the phone against the wall and shatter it, and with it shatter all the ties that had ever bound Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh together.

"God…I want out. I want OUT." He growled into his knees, feeling despair wash over him. "Why wont this insanity just end."

"Hey…..Kyle?" A young boy stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Kyle with a concerned expression. The boy was small and thin, even a bit on the frail side. He hung over the floor, with one foot off the last step, suspended from a single hand clinging to the banister. He was still in his favorite pair of blue pj's and his dark head of black hair was tussled into a morning nest. Blue eyes, so dark they appeared almost black, blinked curiously before he leaped off the steps and landed hard enough on the floor to rock the picture frame beside the phone to fall over on the table stand.

Without looking up Kyle responded to the eleven year old's voice in a muffled tone. "Go away, Ike."

"but Kyl-"

"GO away, Ike."

"Bu-"

"IKE, Go away!"

This time Kyle looked up from his fetal position to see his little brother standing directly in front of him. Kyle jerked backwards in surprise, not expecting to him to be so close.

"But, Kyle, there's a weird kid in your room."

Kyle's left eye twitched and for a moment he was at a loss for words as his face contorted in confusion. He stared at Ike with his brows knitting together. Ike just stood there, looking perfectly innocent and not the least bit off-put.

"There's a …weird kid…in my room. What? You think I'm retarded? Did you go in there and break something and now trying to blame someone else?" Kyle asked, lifting himself up off the chair.

"No I didn't!" Ike swore, running back to the stairs, preparing to run back up them and dart into his room, should his older brother make a lunge at him.

"…You had better not be screwing with me. I am NOT in the mood." Kyle stomped towards Ike, and the little boy bounded up the stairs like a jack rabbit, stopping at the top with an arm outstretched, pointing at Kyles semi-shut bedroom door. Kyle deliberated, he really didn't want to walk all the way up their just to be pranked by his obnoxious little brother. After a moment of watching Ike stab his finger demandingly towards the alluded intruder Kyle finally gave in and stopped up to his sibling.

As soon as he got to the top of the steps he felt a draft coming from inside his room. The wind seeped out from underneath the door and cut through him. It made the hair on his bare arms stand at attention. Kyle looked over at Ike and then pushed the door open with the toe of his sneaker. It swung open easily and the chill of the cold air hit him full on. The window was lifted wide open and snow was dusting the windowsill and the carpet bellow.

"I'm sorry, I was about to close that." Came a dark tinted voice from the other side of the room. A boy was sitting at Kyle's desk, slowly spinning the swivel chair to face the him. The boy was dressed in dark sports pants, the kind that avid rock climbers will often wear, and a dark wash shirt. That wasn't what was unique about his outfit. Coupled with his outfit he wore a cape and a small mask that circled both his eyes. The insignia upon his chest was a green question mark, a symbol that was well know around South Park.

"Holy shit! You're that Mysterion kid. What are you doing in my room?!" Kyle asked, blinking as he tried to forcibly keep Ike from climbing around him to get into the room. He shoved his little brother back and shut the door quickly-only to hear Ike whining on the other side about being left out of everything cool.

"I came because of Stan…and a few other reasons." Mysterion said in a low growl. He remained where he sat in the chair, watching as Kyle secured the lock on his door and then quickly moved to pull the window closed. The redhead struggled with it for a moment but was finally able to force it down against the assault of snow. He then turned, rubbing his hands against his arms, trying to get warm.

"You know Stan? Stan Marsh?" Kyle had heard of this Mysterion guy before, on the news even. He was a bit of a legend around South Park. He wasn't any super hero but in the past few years he had become a symbol for the generation. He was a young kid, about Kyle's same age that went around stopping menial crimes and protecting people. He had heard several instances where Mysterion had been accredited to stopping car burglaries, or attempted rapes. He was proof that the kids in this town actually cared, and Kyle had always really respected that. Now he was standing here right in front of. He was proof that the kids in this town actually cared, and Kyle had always really respected that. Now he was standing here right in front of him.

"Yes, I know Stan Marsh, and I know you too, Kyle Broflovski." Mysterion peered over at the row of picture frames standing together in a huddle on the desk in front of him. Images of Four best friends in a range of expressions, several of Kyle with each Kenny, Eric, and Stan in turn grinning at the camera. It made his heart ache, and then burn as his eyes honed in on the fat chortling face of Eric in the picture.

"Why…what about him?" Kyle asked, moving to take a seat across from Mysterion, on his own bed. He moved a pile of folded clothing to the side before lowering himself down onto the comforter. He watched Mysterion examine the pictures of him and his friends and saw a spark of sadness in his shadowed blue eyes.

"He's not at home anymore, he's been taken away." Mysterion's sharp gaze turned to Kyle, searching for any information the redhead might have.

"I know he's not. He's not been at home, nor has his family. He's not been around since Craig's party a few days ago. Something happened to him…he drank too much and sort of, freaked out…" Kyle dropped his eyes to carpet, shuffling his shoes together. It didn't feel entirely right talking about it out loud, for whatever reason.

"I need you to tell me everything you know, I want to know everything you saw that night." Mysterion coaxed, never taking his eyes off of Kyle.

"Well I…I mean he was pretty much fine for the majority of the night as far as I knew and things just sort of went down hill. He got angry at one point and stormed off…I was going to go after him but I ended up letting someone else take care of it. I don't think he really wanted to see me at that point because he thought that I was part of this plan to send him away to therapy. I mean I know I had talked to him about it but I wasn't planning on sending him away!" Kyle's voice shot up an octave as guilt burned through his voice. It was obvious he felt some degree of responsibility for what had happened, "I can only assume what happened after that, next thing I knew Cartman found him on the floor having some sort of fit. I guess maybe he got mad and went to down a bottle of who knows what… and then when he started having those convulsions there was nothing that could be done but to call the cops. That's all I know, I mean not even his family is answering the phone.

There was a stretch of silence that followed this before Mysterion spoke again. His question was slow and his words carefully chosen.

"When you say you let someone else take care of it…who did you mean?"

Kyle thought for a moment, "Eric Cartman, I let him talk to Stan because, well, he's part of our group of friends and he wasn't a part of what happened… It was me and Kenny that Stan was mad at."

"I see, so you left Stan Marsh alone with Eric Cartman that night before everything went to shit?"

"Yeah...that's right," Kyle's brows knitted together as he stared at the pensive expression on his visitors face. What was Mysterion asking all these questions for? "Mysterion…do you know where Stan is?"

The shrouded face nodded once, "Yes, I do believe I know where he is, and his family too. They took him to a rehabilitation and mental heath care facility in Denver."

"I Knew it! And the family?"

"Right now they are staying in a room at the Hilton nearby the center, as far as I am aware they are only staying there to help Stan settle in and finish with all the necessary paperwork. I did some research on their programs and there is a one month minimal institutionalization, and residents can be kept for up to a year.

Kyle sagged limply against his desk, pressing the palm of one hand against his brow, "o-one month…minimal? You mean they are going to keep him for that long?!"

"At best." Mysterion confirmed, his mouth tightening into a thin line, "unless we do something about it."

"Do something about it? What could we possibly do about it?" Kyle said, running his hand down the length of his freckled face.

"Prove that he isn't crazy, or in need of rehabilitation."

"But….Mysterion….Stan did have a drinking problem. I mean even I wanted to get him some sort of help for it."

"Stan Marsh may have been self medicating with alcohol, but he's not an alcoholic. He was just love sick and didn't know how to handle the facts." Kenny insisted.

"And what ARE the facts?" Kyle asked, peeking through his splayed fingers.

"That he's in love with a boy. You, to be exact." Kyle felt his heart do a sudden back flip that left his insides fluttering.

"It-I…how do you know that?" He asked narrowing his eyes as he dropped his hand from his face. Mysterion had no intention of getting off the immediate topic and redirected the conversation quickly.

"Kyle, you're the only one that really has a chance of uncovering what really happened at Craig's party. It's going to be up to you to get Stan out of that facility.

"But I don't even know where to begin!" Kyle said, exasperated. Kenny moved back to the window. He was impossibly swift. Kyle had a hard time following him with his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was because his eyes were threatening to fill with tears of because Mysterion moved like a cat.

"You'll think of something. You ARE the smartest kid in class." Mysterion reminded him, perching on the window sill with feline grace. He glanced back at Kyle one last time and tipped a blue eyed wink before sinking down into the night. The flash of those blue eyes stuck with Kyle, an image that left him with more questions than answers.


	24. Chapter 24 Welcome to Hell

Episode 2

"Checks" the voice came in a harsh whisper, that did nothing to dampen it's volume. A sharp beam of light crashed against Stan's closed eyelids, flooding his brain and waking him from an already fitful sleep. He blinked a few times and lifted a hand to shield himself from the nurses flashlight. After shining her light on the face of Stans roommate she clicked it off and closed the door. He could hear the sound of her two inch heels clicking down the hall. He let out a groan and rolled over, surprised to see his roommate staring back at him.

"It will get easier." He assured, yawning and letting his eyes slip closed again.

"Why do they do that so much?" Stan asked.

"Because you're new, they'll start spacing them out after you've been here awhile. They wanna make sure you haven't hung yourself with the bed sheet." Damien yawned again and drew his covers up to his chin as he rolled over the opposite way.

"right…." Stan said softly, doing the same. He had only been in this place a few days and it was already beginning to feel like a lifetime. He closed his eyes tightly and willed sleep to come, but as usual it was more difficult than that. He was too groggy from the medication to get up and walk around or get a glass of water. The pillow felt like sleeping on a paper bag stuffed with lumpy potatoes. The blanket was too thin and caused his skin to itch. To top it off when he peeped one eye open his gaze fell upon the digital clock on his bedside table, 5:00am. How could he possibly get back to sleep.

He flung the blanket off himself and allowed it to slip down over his feet and crumple to the ground. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling above. There was a single fan moving in a slow rhythmic whirl. The sound of it was relatively calming, he had always enjoyed white noise like this. He blinked through the medicated haze and let his eyes follow the movement of the fans white blades.

In this daze his mind began to wander, traveling back to South Park and imagining what Kyle might have been doing. Probably asleep, or possibly just waking up…maybe waking from a dream about him. He must have been worried…or…Stans thoughts turned dark…maybe he was glad he was gone or worse yet didn't care at all, hadn't given it a single thought. In the same fitfulness that had plagued him the past several nights, Stan fell back to sleep.

"Checks" There was no beam of light this time, but that was because the room was already flooded with it. Stan's eyes opened in response, and the first thing he saw was the digital clock. 8:00am. He rolled over just as the nurse closed the door and saw that Damian was no longer in his bed. He didn't remember hearing him leave. Slowly he lifted himself up into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes.

Dragging himself out of bed he stumbled over to the sink and stared down into the ceramic bowl. He opened the spout and dunked his face down into the stream of cool water. He splashed it up onto his brow and into the fringe of his bangs and shook himself out like a dog before slicking it back and staring at his reflection in the mirror. There were heavy bags under his eyes and he looked disgruntled.

"I fucking hate this place." He said simply, gazing into his own eyes as he spoke. He turned off the faucet. He tossed a hand towel over his shoulders and slid his bare feet into his navy blue slippers before heading for the door. He took a deep breath before finally opening it. As he flung open the door he was surprised to come face to face with Damien. Both boys jerked back, startled, but settled quickly.

"Oh, Stan, you're awake. Good." He pushed his hand through his black hair, a mirror of Stan's. Although the two boys shared the same hair color, they looked almost completely different from one another. Where Stan's eyes were a deep stormy blue, Damien's were a clear brown that were so auburn they appeared almost red. Stan's skin was a healthy neutral tan. Damien's skin was as pale as Kyle's yet sported not a single freckle. His brows were arched down over his eyes, making him look perpetually frustrated. Stan was also much taller and broader shouldered, although Damien was well muscled it was the leaner sort, the muscles of someone naturally built rather than one who had worked hard to tone and bulk up.

"Yeah, I just woke up. Or…well I was just woken up." Stan said pressing the hem of the hand towel against his moist cheek.

"It's almost time for group so Dr. Mandala wanted me to come get you up." Damien turned around, gesturing for Stan to follow.

"Right, group…great." Stan let out a heavy sigh and followed after his roommate towards the main lounge. The hall was painted in a light hospital blue and white. Well kept blue and salmon tiles stretched the length of the residence hall and spilled into a short cropped deep blue carpet that marked the entrance into the lounge. Before Stan could reach this point a voice called out to him.

"Stan, Stan Marsh." Stan turned to see a short fat woman in a white uniform peering over the top of a clip board at him from the window of the nurses station.

"Yeah…" Stan said, raising a brow.

"You didn't get your morning medication, you need to visit here before you go to group." The fat nurse lowered her clip board and rummaged behind her in the file cabinet. Stan watched her, leaning against the door frame.

"I don't need any medication." He said stiffly, "I didn't need any medication yesterday, or the day before and I don't need any medication now."

The nurse turned back around with a paper cup between her fingers. She held it out to him and Stan took it, staring down at the two pills that bounced against each other inside.

"That's something you can discuss with Dr. Mandala." She said, her smile sinking down between the pudge of her bulbous cheeks.

Stan gave a forced smile, "I'll be sure to do that. Thanks." And with that he snatched the cup from her fat little fingers and upturned it against his lips, swallowing them without aid of the water she offered him after. He turned on his heels and marched himself into the lounge.

The lounge area had been transformed for the purpose of morning group. All of the patients had gathered, including Damien. The couches and armchairs had been pushed to the outer edge of the room and the inner area had been turned into a kindergarten style pow-wow. Collapsible armless chairs were set in a semi-circle around a small school desk that served as Doctor Mandala's "throne". She sat there, perched behind the little wooden flat board with her pen in her well manicured fingers and her clip board propped up against her opposite wrist.

"Oh, how good of you to finally join us, Stan." Dr. Mandala turned her bright hawk like eyes on him, peering over the half moons of her glasses. Stan gave her the same smile he had given to the fat nurse, coming off as more of a scowl than anything. "Why don't you have a seat?" Mandala insisted, gesturing to the single empty chair between two of the other patients.

Lucky for Stan Damien had saved him a seat. Had he not he might have been doomed to sit beside some of the more …unfavorable patients. Sitting beside Damien and Rebecca, wasn't so bad. Damien gave Stan a small nod, eyeing the chair and then glancing up at Dr. Mandala who was watching them both with those predatory eyes.

Dr. Mandala was an attractive woman for her age. She sported a full black bun on the top of her head, only a few wisps of coarse horse-like hair escaped to fan out against her coca brow. A dusty red dot was placed directly between her sharp eyes and she sported elegant flows of green and blue silks. She spoke with an accent, straight from India, and her voice seemed to lilt with a calmness that sharply contrasted her intense gaze.

"Right…" Stan said as he slipped over to the empty chair and sunk down into it. Directly across from him Pip was staring stupidly at him. Stan rolled his eyes away, trying to seem as though he didn't see. Pip had been an obnoxious thorn in his side since the moment he had first arrived. As far as he knew Pip had been at the institution for a few weeks already and the general consensus, according to Damien, was that he was an annoying little fuck. The boy was a year or so younger than Stan with blond, medium length hair, and looked as if a stiff wind might blow him over. His arms and legs were so awkwardly thin that he was amazed the boy could walk at all. Although it was common courtesy, Stan had learned, not to ask why patients were there it was pretty obvious that Pip's little secret problem was the issue of not eating a single god-damn thing. If it wasn't the fact that he hadn't seen him pass a morsel of food past his lips in the four days he had been there then it was his strange ganglyness.

Pip wasn't the only odd one. The patient that sat next to the blond was a boy that Stan only knew as "Dog Poo". How had he acquired that name? He smelled like shit. He ALWAYS smelled like shit. What his exact problem was might not have been entirely clear, but the most immediate issue was that the boy refused to bath. At all. Ever. He was a short, stocky boy with a shag of unkempt dust colored hair. His eyes were a greenish brown. Instead of blinking he seemed to twitch, his whole body moving along with the action every few seconds. A veritable cloud of stench hovered around him even as he sat there across from Stan in the circle.

Sitting beside Dog Poo was "The Goth Chick," Henrietta. All dressed in her usual black. Her nails, which tapped against her cheek restlessly, were inked out with permanent marker. Her hair was cropped short and styled to spike out in every direction around her oval face. She had a perpetual scowl and Stan was fairly certain it wasn't just because she was forced to sit beside the disgusting "Dog Poo". She might have been pretty if she would take off her ridiculously dark makeup, or tan her palid skin that in no way resembled porcelain, as was her aim. She wasn't shy about covering up the reason for her attendance at the facility. Her wrists were covered with deep half heeled cuts.

Staring with apparent curiosity at the Goth girl from where she sat on the other side of Stan, was Rebecca. She was a Mousey looking girl with medium length brown hair and indescript, dull brown eyes. She seemed unyieldingly nervous and tapped her fingers against her knee without pause. Her eyes seemed to dart around the circle to each of the gathered with radical speed.

There were others gathered too, but before Stan could trace them with his eyes Dr. Sonika Mandala spoke. She lifted her hands to gather everyone's attention. Her silk sleeves fluttered in the artificial lights as she slowly drew them back down into her lap, "Good Morning Group, how is everyone feeling?" she asked, her smile bright and white between her naturally dark lips.

"I feel like I'm going to vomit if you don't make Dog-Shit here take god damn bath." Henrietta said, pushing her labret piercing in and out of it's hole bellow her lower lip, managing to retain that tell tale scowl.

"Language, Henrietta, and you know that must move at his own pace." Her voice was calm and set a sleek wall up against the rebellious girls hostility. Dog Poo physically shyed away from the black haired girl, scrunching himself down in his seat.

"How about you, Pip? How are you feeling?" the Doctor asked, looking to the gangly blond.

"I feel very good Dr. Mandala, very very good." The boy smiled, his voice not much more than a crickets chirp. He wrung his hands together between his knees and smiled demurely.

"That's wonderful, Pip." The doctor marked a few notes down on her clip board, "and what about you, Stan?" she asked turning those raptor eyes onto the Basketball Star.

"Oh, I feel just fantastic Dr. absolutely fantastic. I just love getting woken up every three hours and having to take horse tranquilizers." He gave Dr. Mandala his best fake smile.

"Now, Stan…you've been here for a few days now and you have yet to open up any. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you'll only get better at the pace you choose for yourself." She laid her clip board in her lap and tilted her head so that she could look at him over her glasses.

"Right, well, personally I don't have any clue why I am here at all. So I don't see why you are wasting your time." Stan narrowed his gaze, staring down those dagger like eyes.

"Stan Marsh, it is your own time you are wasting by fighting this process. Try and be open to the help that you are being offered." Her words were calm and without any more hesitation she moved on to the address the rest of the patience. Stan closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. How was he going to survive this. All he wanted to do was go home. He wanted to see his friends, he wanted to see Kyle…

"When can I make a fucking phone call?" Stan snapped, interrupting 's check in with Rebecca. Once again the Doctor turned on Stan and spoke in that infuriatingly even tone.

"You can make a phone call when you no longer feel like you need to."

Stan felt his clenched fists shaking with rage, yet he kept his mouth shut even as his nose wrinkled with distress. Damien leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"Chill man, you'll just making it worse." Damien was smirking, obviously getting a sort of amusement out of the display of rage. Stan bit his lower lip, trying hard to keep his anger in check. If he was going to ever make it out of this place he was going to have to play some serious hard ball with .

Group lasted an hour, and by that time Stan had managed to turn his bursting anger into a quiet simmer. The majority of the session had been spent listening to Dog Poo talk about how soap would wash away his ability to hide from the government satellites. While Damien seemed to find this hysterical and kept jabbing Stan in the side everytime Dog-Poo's voice cracked with panic, Stan found it rather disturbing.

Everything at the clinic revolved around scheduled appointments. Right after group was Breakfast. After Breakfast was Anger Management, and then Emotional intelligence, and then Lunch. Stan felt as if his life was being run by the clock and that she-witch . There wasn't a single moment of the day that wasn't programmed with "emotional this" or "sensitivity" that. By the time Lunch rolled around Stan could barely keep his eyes open.

"Damien…I'm not built for this shit. If I have one more nurse talk to be about managing my feelings I'm going to blow up. Like really blow up, as in BOOM-brains everywhere. I feel like I'm going to die in here."

"You won't" Damien said as he shoveled a spoon full of peas into his mouth, "at least not here. If you're in here over a year and a half they will send you to the general care facility where they have all the adults…at least if you're over 18."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence." Stan said with a grumble, glaring at Damien. The two ate in silence for a few moments before Stan spoke up again, talking between a mouth full of carrots.

"So how long have you been in here, Damien?" He was hesitant to ask, these sorts of things seemed to be relatively sensitive. Damien didn't seem to mind, instead he raised his gaze to meet Stan's and his lips curled in a devilish grin. 

"Six months." He said simply, why he was smiling Stan wasn't sure.

"holy shit, dude…six months?!" Stan's eyes widened in shock. That amount of time seemed incomprehensible. It sent his mind wheeling. His curiosity spiked and there was nothing he could do to quell it besides asking more questions. Yet before he even opened his mouth Damien began to unload.

"Yup, Six months….well six and a half to be exact. I've been here the…" he paused and seemed to calculate something in his head before continuing, "second longest. Doo-Poo has been here the longest." He brushed his fingers through his black hair and sat up, looking proud.

"What—did you you? I have to ask." Stan said rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing around to see if he was about to be chastised by a nurse for asking personal questions, but it seemed that wasn't going to happen.

"I burned down my house," he said without his voice betraying a hint of emotion, "and I burned down the wooden playground outside my school. And the neighbors dog, burned that too. Well he was half burned…come to think of it not sure what happened to the other half." He gave a loose shrug and spooned more peas into his mouth, sporting a small smile as he chewed with his mouth closed. Stan was quiet for a long moment, feeling sincerely uneasy. He hadn't expected to hear something like that. Now that the information was out there Stan couldn't help but have his image of the auburn eyed boy altered slightly, "What about you, Stan. What did you do to get put in here?"

Stan winced and wrinkled his nose. He was not near as composed as Damien was about why he was here. "I shouldn't be. There isn't anything wrong with me." He said stiffly.

"Bull shit, you came in here on an IV and you looked like death." Damien pointed out, poking a plastic fork in Stan's direction.

"Well right but…that…that wasn't my fault." He said, his tone growing more defensive and more hostile. His mind moved to Cartman's fat faced smile and he felt the urge to punch the hardest thing he could find rising in his gut.

"Right, whatever you say," Damien laughed, looking past Stan to the other side of the cafeteria, "Want to know why the others are here?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. Stan was drawn from his brooding by that plaguing curiosity.

"Uh…yeah..I mean I can kind of tell why some people are here but not everyone." Stan blinked a few times and looked over his shoulder to where Damien was looking, it was Dog-Poo sitting alone in the corner.

"Right, but sometimes what you can see is just the surface problem… I know most of the dirt on everyone here, take Dog-Shit for example. You could ask him yourself and he would tell you…but he's not exactly pleasant to talk to so I'll just tell fill you in. You already know he won't bath and he thinks that government satellites can track everyone on the planet with the push of a button…well that's not everything. He's a paranoid Schizophrenic. His Father was a Schizophrenic too and he left his mother when he was six. His mother couldn't handle either of them and had them both institutionalized. Pretty fucked up, right?" Damien seemed to be enjoying this story far too much, he was grinning from ear to ear as he watched the twitchy little boy eat his food with his dirty fingers. Stan watched Dog-Poo with heavy brows. It was hard to watch him, or judge him knowing what he had just learned.

"You didn't even tell him the best part Dami," came a deep female voice. Henrietta was standing at their front, hands resting on the top their table. Her breasts were large, well balanced with her full form. She was dressed in a simple black band T-shirt with white text scrawled across it that said "LolliPOP" and a splattering of what looked like red paint pattern. Her sweat pants were black, and hung seductively off her full hips. The draw string on them had been removed for safety reasons, same as the strings on her tennis shoes. It managed to make her look quite a bit thinner when her clothes were falling off.

Damien seemed to hone in on the feminine energy like a wolf, eyes flashing a bit as he turned his attention to the bored looking girl, watching with intent as her tongue pressed against the back of her lower lip, playing with her labret piercing.

"Really, whatever do you mean?" Damien asked. Stan couldn't help by imagine him as a larggy shaggy black wolf, hungry for a taste of anything female that within half a mile. It was probably due to being locked up in an institution that didn't allow conjugal visits.

"Nope, you see Stan, Dog Shit also has a little sister. She's only 4 but they think she might also be schizophrenic," After saying that Henrietta burst out into a fit of laughter, holding her gut. Damien was grinning too, waggling his eye brows in amusement. Stan Marsh looked between the two, no smile cracking on his face. "Poor Shit smelling bastard!" Henrietta added, shaking her head as she slipped down into an empty chair. She leaned her chin on her hand and regarded them with heavily lidded eyes. She was quiet for a moment before jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at Rebecca who was standing in the cafeteria line tapping her fingers together with lightning speed.

"And that little blond mousey looking thing is Rebecca. You wouldn't know it to look at her but she's a massive slutty whore. She's slept with over a dozen guys and shes only sixteen. She's also maaaajorly OCD. I should know. I read her file."

"Not many more guys than you, eh Henrietta." Damien said, chuckling. Henrietta swatted his upside the head with the flat of her hand.

"Shut up dick hole. I will cut you're eyes out." She snapped.

"With what, we aren't even allowed to have safety scissors." Damien reminded her, simply, folding his arms behind his head. Henrietta seemed about to claw his eyes out with her own fingers. Stan cleared his throat and spoke up in order to stop the apparent cat fight.

"What about you, Henrietta?" Stan said, pushing his empty food tray away from himself. Henrietta blinked and turned her gaze off of Damien, looking Stan up and down.

"What, you mean you can't tell?" She scoffed, shooting a brow up into her spiked hair. "I'm not exactly some delicate flower. Didn't you see these?" she shoved her wrists towards Stan's face before yanking them back again, "It's my fucking heroine attic family and all their stupid fucking rules. My god damned father doesn't even notice me and my mothers too wrapped up in her two fucking rat dogs. So I ran away, serves them right. They found me a week later shacked up with my boyfriend so they sent me here. Trying to fucking conform me."

Stan was beginning to feel an excess in lack of comfort. He was glad that he had finished his meal and had an excuse to leave. He cleared his throat again and stood up, picking up his tray, "Well, anyways I have to go to go get dressed for gym time. I'll see you guys around." Without another moments hesitation he swept himself away towards the trash can and then quickly retreated to his room to get dressed for the only class he actually looked forward to. Maybe he would get to toss a few hoops and feel like a normal person, if just for a little while.

Damien and Henrietta watched him go in silence, following him until he disappeared around the corner.

"Well, what do you think?" Damien asked, still staring after the dark haired basketball player.

"I think he's cool. We can let him in on things around here…bring him tomorrow night." Henrietta picked up Damiens fork and stabbed it through his buttered roll before walking away back to her own tray.


	25. Chapter 25 Dethrone the King

"God damn it! Half our friends are fucking grounded thank's to butt-hole-fucking-Stan!" Cartman barked, clenching his fists in anger as Cylde's Father shut the front door in his and Kenny's face. The larger boy's face grew a cherry red in anger as he twirled himself around and stomped down off Clydes front step and back towards the sidewalk. Kenny said nothing but followed him. He stuffed his hands into his orange pockets and cut through the snow covered lawn to catch up with Eric's hurried steps.

"Personally Eric, I don't know why you think it's a good idea to throw another party so soon after what happened last weekend." Kenny pointed out

"Why should I change my party schedule just because Stan-fucking-Marsh got sent to the hospital." Eric pointed out in his usual selfish stubbornness.

"Well, probably because it's kinda fucked up." Kenny said lazily, knowing that saying this would just piss off and confuse Cartman more. Eric, being the way he was, just wouldn't allow him comprehension. Had Eric been a real human being rather than an evil bastard maybe he would have understood-but waiting for some kind of revelation like that was like waiting for hell to freeze over so Kenny wasn't going to hold his breath.

"Fucked up? What's fucked up is that Stan went and got himself all destroyed and ruined what could have been a fun time for everyone. What a selfish douche bag!" Cartman continued. Kenny felt his insides churning as he watched Cartman fume over his own misfortune. It was even more messed up knowing that Eric had something to do with what happened that night, he sure was acting casual for being so obviously guilty. Kenny shouldn't have been surprised, that was just the sort of person Eric was.

"Nothing, just forget it," Kenny said, looking down at his watch as he puffed a jet of pale breath from his nostrils "It's almost time for Kyle's swim meet anyways and we need to get their early to get a good seat." Cartman's grumpy expression dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. Eric snagged Kenny by the wrist and began dragging him towards the school.

"Why didn't you say so, lets go." Eric pulled Kenny relentlessly onward without pause. Kenny couldn't remember him ever having been excited to go to school. The image of Eric hurrying towards South Park High was enough to curdle anyones blood, at least anyone who knew him. The only reason Cartman was even passing school was because he was cut plenty of slack by the teachers who knew he was a football player.

"What has you so excited? Slow down!" Kenny demanded, wrenching his wrist from Eric's grip. He narrowed his eyes at the larger boy as he rubbed at the spot Cartman had been tugging. Any harder and his whole arm would have been yanked out of socket. The fact that Eric was stronger than him, physically, was extremely annoying and a little unsettling.

"You said it yourself, we need to get there early to get a good seat." Eric said, waving a hand in dismissal as he continued on his way. Kenny followed after him at his own pace. Eric had been obnoxiously chipper for the last few days, at least more often than his explosive anger had taken hold, and Kenny at least had a hint why. Somehow Stan and Kyle were key points in this mystery and he was determined to discover how the pieces fit together. Someone needed to slap Eric Cartman down a few pegs, and who better to do that then Kenny with his double life.

The School was a buzz with activity, it was the second meet of the semester and all the family members and friends of the swim team were making their way into the swim-nasium. Despite the bitter chill outside the gym was heated to a balmy perfection. The smell of chlorine filled the two boy's nose as they entered, buffeted by the growing crowd.

"Shit, we probably aren't going to be able to see Kyle before the meet, they're probably still down in the locker room." Cartman said, rubbing his chin as he scanner the room, searching for any sign of the South Park swim team.

"Oh, Hello boys!" came a shrill, nasally voice. Kenny and Cartman turned around to see the walking towards them with an arm around her son, Ike.

"Hello, Mrs. Broflovski, hello Ike." Cartmen chirped, putting on his best charm.

"Hello." Kenny said, giving a casual gesture with his hand. He always hated this fake 'nice guy' act Eric put on every time he came in contact with an adult. He always knew how to keep people's guard down with just how sickening he could be.

"And would you know where Kyle would be, Mrs. Broflovski, and might I say your hair looks lovely today, did you just get it cut?" Cartmen's grin reached his ears. Kenny turned his head, mock vomiting. Eric, leaking sugar, just put a bad taste in his mouth. The same issue seemed to set Ike off as well, he mimicked Kenny with a mock vomit of his own.

"Oh why thank you, Eric. Kyle should be with the team now, getting changed. Ike and I just dropped him off a few minutes ago. Seeing that wasn't going to be any use getting to see Kyle before the meet, Eric's attention waned from her.

"right, lets go get seats, Kyenny." He said, slapping a hand on the back of his orange parka, forcing him a few feet to the left. Kenny grumbled but decided not to pick a fight with Eric at that moment, even though he was entirely sick of being shoved around all day. The meet was only a few minutes from starting and this was Kyle's big day, there was no use in putting Eric in his place, at least until afterwards.

Kenny and Cartman found a decent spot in the second row of the bleachers. Kenny looked around but didn't see anyone else from their class. Seemed like everyone was even grounded from coming to school functions. The majority of the crowd was made up of excited parents.

A few minutes after they had found their seat, applause erupted from the stands. On the other side of the gym the South Park swim team was entering from the locker room. It was ten boys dressed in swim caps, goggles and matching black speedos. At first glance it was hard to tell them apart, but Kyle stuck out from the rest with his pale milky skin and auburn freckles.

Eric had never been to one of Kyle's swim meets before, it was a rare opportunity that was only recently appreciated. He was surprised to see just how much of Kyle's body was covered in those tiny natural dots. They stretched all along both his arms and ripened along his collarbone. His knees sported a few clusters and odd numbers of them flecked his legs. The way Kyle was marched out in sync with his team mates gave Eric the distinct feel of looking at a displayed item of stock. His eyes scanned every inch of him, as if memorizing. Kyle's lean form didn't have an ounce of fat clinging to his tight muscles. When he breathed his abdomen stretched taunt. It was clear he was preparing himself with those deep inhales.

Kyle glanced over at the stands to see his mother and his brother waving. He noticed also, to his surprise, that Kenny and Cartman had also come to support him. It was nice to see them there, considering how down he had been the last few days. He had been putting all of his energy into trying to reach Stan or practicing for this swim meet, he had hardly had any time to hang out with his other friends.

He waved back, pushing a cheery smile before tucking the last few coils of auburn hair up into his swim cap. The announcer was chirping through the PA system as the Denver Swim team also entered the gym to another applause.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the South Park Second preliminary swim meet! Winners will go on to the 25th annual Colorado State championship! Swimmers compete in age groups of 8 and under…"

As the announcer droned on sportsman like nods were exchanged between the two teams before the first round of racers began to line up for the first heat. Kyle rolled his shoulders and popped his neck as he moved towards the edge of the pool. He breathed deep the sharp scent of chlorine and closed his eyes behind his goggles. He knew he would be starting out with one of the top seed times, and yet still he managed to get himself nervous.

As Kyle pulled himself up onto the starting block he took a moment to glance over at the others as they did the same. The sound of cheers from the crowd faded from his focus and only the sound of his quickened heart, and deep preparatory breaths filled his frame of mind. He looked down the length of the pool, following the black striped on the bottom with his eyes. They were runways, trails to follow to keep himself swimming straight. He closed his eyes once more and when he opened them again he was prepared. He crouched, leg muscles clenched. The whistle blew. He took his final breath and dove, piercing the glass-like surface.

"Good Job!"

"Thanks!"

"Way to go dude! That was some fierce competition."

"yeah it was, thanks!" Kyle couldn't peel the grin off of his face as his team members swatted him on the back. One of them tossed a towel over his head and he snagged it to whip the water from is brow, pressing the white cotton all over his face. He yanked his swim cap off and shook out his shaggy hair.

"Damn Kyle, first place, looks like you're going to be going to the State Championship." Kenny said as he approached, giving the red head a pat on the shoulders.

"Looks like it," Kyle said, beaming as he pulled his towel down across his chin and throat. He was still panting from his exertion and his face had taken on a rosy complexion, "it's gunna be a lot of work to get ready for." He said as he wrapped the towel around his waist and tied it there.

Cartman smirked, standing beside both Kenny and Kyle without speaking. He was allowing his eyes to roam up and down the red heads body, watching the beads of water slide down his pearl colored skin. He couldn't help by entertain the intrusion of some, dark, fantasies as they flooded his mind. His smirk twisted a bit into a subtle sneer. Only Kenny seemed to notice, peering up at the larder boy with narrowed eyes. Eric was dangerous, and Kenny was beginning to understand just what he was capable of, recognizing the hunger that slithered behind the linebackers eyes, even as they turned from Kyle to meet his own, blue hews.

"How about we go to Shakies and celebrate?" Kyle posed, still grinning excitedly. He looked between Kenny and Cartman and his smile seemed to shrink a bit. He could notice obvious tension growing between them. Had they had some sort of fight earlier? He cleared his throat, preparing to try again but was cut off as he saw his little brother Ike prancing up to meet him.

"That was epic, bro!" He said lifting his fist. Kyle gave a smirking smile and met his brothers knuckles with his own. In that moment Kyle was able to come across as cocky, something the smaller broflovski brother could bring out in him rather well.

"Thanks, Ike." He said, beaming. Cartman looked between the two and Kenny couldn't help but notice that wheels were turning in the football players head. Did the boy ever stop scheming?

"How about we go to Shakies, to celebrate!" Kyle finally managed to blurt out, a second time. At this both Eric and Kenny startled and looked to Kyle. Kenny forced his smile back on and spoke up.

"Of course, you go get changed and we'll meet you at your car, Eric and I walked." With that Eric nodded as well.

"How about Ike comes with us." Eric said, that fake smile plastered to perfection on his lips. Ike's whole face lit up at the prospect. Kyle couldn't very well say no.

"Um..Sure, I'll meet you guys in a few minutes." He waved and latched a hand against his towel and jogged back towards the locker room. Eric followed him with his eyes the whole way to the other side of the gym before he disappeared.

"Let's go, Fat-Ass." Kenny said, glaring at the back of Eric's head. Cartman didn't take his eyes off the closing door to the locker room.

"I'll meet you by the car, Ike go with Kenny." Eric said, not bothering to look at Kenny as he began to make his way towards the locker room, himself, "I need to talk to Kyle for a minute." And without another word he disappeared behind the door. Kenny looked after Eric with a stunned expression. He was not alright with Kyle being alone with Eric, but with any luck some of the other swim team members would still be there. Ike clamoring around him was good interference. Eric was good….too good. Kenny bit his lower lip and burned a hole in the door with his eyes. There wasn't really anything he could do in this situation that wouldn't come off as paranoid or nosey.

"Come on, Kenny. I know where Kyles car is!" Ike said, enthusiastically. The Blond sucked in a deep breath and turned around. He was just going to have to wait by the car and trust that Eric wouldn't do something horrible so soon after what he did to Stan. Defeated, he turned away and headed towards the car.

Kyle opened his locker and began to fish out his street clothes. He set them down on the bench behind him in a neat folded stack. He used the hand that wasn't holding up the towel around his waist and reached beneath it to tug down his swim uniform. He turned around and grabbed his pair of boxers and pulled them on under his towel, dropping it once they were securely situated about his hips.

"Hey, Kyle." Came a voice from the far end of the hall of lockers. Kyle jumped, startled, and whirled around to face Cartman, who was leaning nonchalantly against number 436, eyeing the smaller boy with a predatory gaze.

"Holy shit, Cartman….you scared the fuck out of me!" Kyle put a hand to his chest and took a deep breath before going back to pulling on his clothes.

"Haha, Sorry." Eric said as he sauntered over to where Kyle was, sitting on the bench, watching him as he changed.

"I thought I was meeting you out at the car, what do you want?" The redhead asked, pulling an orange t-shirt over his head. As he tugged it down over his mass of hair he felt it snag at the sleeves. He struggled with it for a moment only to feel it yank down over his abdomen in one fluid motion, He blinked, looking down at Eric, who had grabbed the hem and pulled it down for him. Eric's fingers brushed against his sides as he retracted his hands. The way Eric was looking at him made him feel suddenly uncomfortable. His eyes seemed, somehow, feral.

"t-thanks..so uh, what did you want?" he asked as he unfolded his pants.

"I just wanted to talk to you. I know you're excited about winning, but I wanted to make sure you were REALLY okay." Eric's voice took on an unfamiliar note. Compassion. Never before had Eric ever said anything to him in that tone. Immediately, Kyle's guard went up. He pulled on his jeans and turned around.

"What do you mean?" he glared at Eric with his green hews.

"I mean with, Stan being sent away." Eric said, blinking innocently. Kyle felt his blood go cold. How did Eric know that Stan had been sent away, no one was sure where he was..the only one that seemed to have a real clue about it was that Mysterion kid and he himself by that default. Something wasn't right here.

"How did you know he was sent away?" Kyle asked, eyes narrowing. Eric cursed mentally, he hadn't meant to make Kyle suspicious. He would have to think quick to get over this bump and continue on with his plan.

"Well, I mean, I was just referring to how he was taken away...to the hospital after he swallowed that bottle of pills and drank all those booze," Eric closed his eyes as he talked, working to not betray his fabricated lie with his expression, "I just wanted to check up on you, it has to be hard hear what he said before he passed out." Kyle's suspicious expression shifted to one of uneasy curiosity. Eric smiled inwardly, he was taking the bait.

"What do you mean, what did he say?" he asked.

"you mean you didn't hear it? Oh that's right…you arrived just after he passed out. Well I was talking to him and he said horrible things…well, if you didn't hear what he said then I supposed that's for the best." With that, Eric stood up and turned to start walking out of the locker room. Kyle reached out and snagged his shoulder, spinning him back around.

"tell me what he said, Cartman." Kyle pressed.

"No no, I really shouldn't." Eric stretched, reeling Kyle in closer and closer. He couldn't help by imagine the other boy as a ruby colored fish thrashing aro-und on the end of a fishing line, or as a puppet dancing on stringer. It was almost too easy.

"Eric! Tell me what he said!" Kyle's voice shot up, emotion running obviously hot.

"Fine. He said that he hated you, okay and that he never wanted to come back to South Park and that he never wanted to see any of us again. Pretty rude if you ask me. He ever went so far as to say….no, I really shouldn't say any more." Eric bit his lower lip, trying to look conflicted. Kyle wasn't going to have it.

"Just say it, Fat-Ass!" Kyle's fists were clenched at his sides.

"Okay, but don't shoot the messanger…he said that you were a faggot for him. He said you had a big gay crush on him. He said that you…disgusted him…" Eric glanced over at Kyle, watching as his bright green hews took on a suddenly fearful expression, widening to the size of saucers as his cheeks flushed pink, "I usually would find someone saying that really funny. I would have, if Stan hadn't threatened to tell everyone at school. I mean, god knows he might have already. What an ass hole."

Kyle was silent, his fists clenching at his sides. There was very obviously an internal struggle going on inside of his head. He looked as though he was in pain. How could Cartman have know something like this unless Stan really had said something. And how did Stan know! He felt shivers running up his spine.

"I mean, if the guys ever found out something like that…man, you'd never be able to live it done. Stan said he overhead you talking about how much you love him in the bathroom. He said he would rather swallow a bottle of pills than have some faggot crushing on him…jeez, now that I think about it maybe that's what he did…which would kind of mean that what he did was because of…well…you."

Kyle felt his heart rate shooting skyward, thudding against his chest. She felt Eric's piercing gaze slicing through him. All his fault? Had Stan really done something to himself out of disgust for him? Did he really hate him? Why was Eric saying all of this to him…unless…

"So tell me, Kyle. Is it true? Do you have a big gay crush on Stan?" Eric's mouth was pulled into an infuriating sneer. His expression was infuriatingly mirthful as he let the words purr from his lips. Kyle recognized that Eric was baiting him, trying to show that he had a one up on him. Eric wasn't asking. Eric knew.

"No. Don't be stupid." Kyle said, his voice dry and stiff. His eyes spoke of complete and total hatred. He hated Eric and that infuriating smirk. Had Stan really told him all of this, was Stan really on the same level as this horrible, heartless fuck?

"Oh really? Is that so? Haha, you see actually when Stan told me I wasn't that surprised, you always kinda seemed like a fruit to me. I bet you've been pounded in the ass a couple of times. Man, if the other guys caught wind of this…damn, you could say goodbye to your social life." Eric's expression never changed, emotionless, victorious. Kyle felt his blood going hot.

"Shut the fuck up, Fat-Ass!" Kyle said, his words coming out as a snarl. The corner of Eric's lips twitched.

"Tisk, Tisk, Kyle, I don't really think you're in the position to be calling me names." Eric said, wagging a single finger in front of the red heads nose.

"What do you WANT, Cartman." Kyle said, his anger creeping into his voice.

"How about a bargain. You do whatever I say, whenever I say..and no one has to know about your…embarrassing little secret.."

Kyle was quiet, his fists shaking, "You are an unbelievable bastard, Cartman, do you know that?"

Eric couldn't stop himself from laughing, "Haha! Yeah, I might be a bastard, but I'm a bastard who gets what he want. I'll meet you out at the car, fruit-cake. A gay Jew, who would have thought. And with a wave of his hand Cartman turned around and strolled out of the locker room feeling like a conqueror. Everything was playing out perfectly to his advantage. It wasn't enough to dethrone King Stan, he had to crush everything that he loved. That was what real winning was all about.

Kyle felt as if someone was stepping on his chest and continuing to press down. He turned his back to the door and clutched his arms across his chest in vain hope of relieving the building tension. His face scrunched up and he took a few deep choked breaths before tears began to gush down his cheeks. In that moment he felt totally and completely alone.


	26. Chapter 26 Revenge of Mysterion

I hope you have all been enjoying part 2 of "Rehab is Gay" So far. By now I am sure you've all noticed that there is a whole lot more planned! It's true, we've only just begun. New characters, new problems, new romance, and far more cliff hangers await you all. I hope you'll continue to support this story but commenting and reviewing, it really helps me know that you want more. Also, you're still very welcome to make requests and I'll take them into consideration. I am still looking for an editor to help with all the little grammar and typo mistakes that have built up so if you would like to apply please message me.

~GlibCharm

Awkward was not exactly the right word. Miserable didn't quite cut it either. Kenny wasn't stupid enough to buy the fake smile he was being unceremoniously presented with. Kyle looked like he was a million miles away in some distant universe and Eric was being infuriatingly cheery. It didn't bother Kenny as much that Eric was being fake with him, but why was Kyle. The red head was laughing at all the wrong times and seemed to respond a little too slowly. Kenny was now trying to secretly decipher the situation, to a meager avail. By the time the waiter returned with their appetizers, Kenny had deducted that he was going to have to catch Kyle a lone to figure out what exactly was going on.

Kyle seemed intent on remaining infuriatingly silent as he picked at his food. He couldn't bring himself to even look at Cartman. He didn't want to see that fat fuck smile. He didn't want to look at him and be reminded of how Cartman had a leg up on him right now. His entire social survival was resting in Eric's hands, and there was no more dangerous place.

"Oh Kyle, pass me the salt." Cartman said in his honey sweet voice. Kenny glanced over at the condiments and reached out to grab the salt, "no no, Kyenny. I want Khyle to get me the salt." Eric's smile was poisonous. Kenny paused his hand, scanned Eric's smile, and then withdrew it from above the table, his brow furrowing deeply. Kyle was flat out ignoring Cartman, staring intently at his slice of pizza. He took a ravenous bite from it as Eric leaned towards him "Kyle. The salt." Eric panamimed ringing a little bell in front of the redheads face.

Kyle closed his eyes tightly, trying to retain his composer. Cartman wasn't going to allow for that. The larger boy flicked Kyle directly on the nose. "Khyyle, I said pass me. The fucking. Salt." The poisonous smile remained, only now was dripping with barbed words that feigned a rosy complexion." Kyle was clenching his fingertips deep into the malleable dough of his pizza's crust. After taking a deep breath he finally rolled his eyes to meet Eric's and snapped out his hand to grab the salt. It was miraculous that he didn't crush it in his viselike grip. He slammed it back down on the table nearest to Eric and released his fingers again without a word. He wasn't going to give that ass hole the benefit of making him loose his temper. He wasn't going to let him win another, single, god damned, thing.

"Oh Kyle, would you pass me the ketchup?" Eric asked. Kenny didn't reach out his hand this time. Instead he watched the invisible waves of tension rising up thicker and thicker between his two friends. A vein seemed to bust in the red heads brow, and Eric's grin looked as if it were reaching maximum capacity. Kyle flung out his arm again and snatched the bottle of ketchup off the end of the table and slammed it down beside the shaker of salt.

"Oh, Kyle, the spicy pepper, too." This time Kyle swung around in his seat to face Cartman. His emerald eyes brewed with stormy defiance, flashing with solid unwavering pride. His teeth gritted in a ferocious scowl.

"No! Fat-Ass! Get your own fucking spicy pepper!" Kyle's fists were clenched and he looked as if he was about to punch Eric right in the chin. Eric sported an expression of mock surprise.

"My goodness, Kyhle, what seems to be the problem? Wouldn't want to be rude now would you? Especially to me, your close friend." Kyle raised his fist as if he really were going to punch Cartman. Eric didn't seem too worried, In fact he leaned forward a little bit more and pointed one large finger at the pepper, "the pepper, Kyle." It was a long stare off but finally, looking infuriated, Kyle reached around and grabbed the pepper, throwing it onto Cartmans plate before standing up. He grabbed his plate of pizza crust and headed towards the trash can,

"I'm walking home." Kyle said, mostly directing the words at Kenny in a bit of an apology.

"Wait…what?" Kenny exclaimed, "What about your car?"

"Just…bring it home later. I don't mind you driving." He tossed his ley's onto the table beside the blond. Kenny looked down at them and slowly picked them up.

"…Sure…" Kenny frowned deeply.

Kyle didn't look back at them as he exited Shakies through the front door and began the long walk back to his house. What was he going to do? He didn't want to be Eric's little victory errand boy…but he also didn't want the news of his affections for Stan to hit the gossip circuit at school. He was stuck…at least for now, playing Eric's stupid little game. He had more important things to worry about than this petty power struggle, he needed to find out what Eric did to Stan, and maybe being forced into this cruel little joke would provide an opportunity to see what Cartman knew. It was at least worth a try.

Kyle blew out gusts of cool pale air and stuffed his hands into his mittens, tugging them on with aid of his teeth. The chill breeze was actually well received, it helped clear his head in much the same was as the first dive on a chilly morning did. Whenever the water enveloped him for the first time, still half awake. The rush of brisk water would shock the worries right out of him. He didn't deserve to have all these problems. This was supposed to be his day, he had won the swim meet and should be excited…but pushing Stans face away with the rest of his concerns was much harder than he cared to admit. He pulled out his inhaler and took a sharp draft before putting it away again. He was going to beat that son of a bitch, psychopath if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Are you sure it was him?" Marjorine asked, wringing her hands together between her knees from where she sat on the edge of hers and butters bed. Mysterion paced back and forth in front of her, fingers tapping at his chin.

"It HAS GOT to be him, and now he has something on Kyle too, who knows what that crazy fucker will do to him. You should have seen him at Lunch today. He wouldn't give Kyle a break…and for whatever reason Kyle couldn't fight back. That means that Eric must be black-mailing him, or threatening him—or SOMETHING like that. I mean it was like watching a train wreck. I have to do something about this. I have to stop that fat fuck before he actually kills someone!"

Marjorine reached out and wrapped her fingers around Mysterions wrist, coaxing him to a stop in front of her. She pulled him down onto the bed beside him and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"It's going to alright," She purred against his cheek, slowly wrapping her arms around his shoulders, squeezing gently, "you're going to have to keep your head about you, or that boy might turn all that anger at you." She reminded him, "and I don't want you getting hurt…"

"I'm not worried about me. You should have seen Kyle's face when I dropped his car off. He looked like a zombie. I couldn't even bring myself to ask about what happened." Mysterion sighed, running his hand down his face, still looking distressed. He leaned into Marjorines kiss. He didn't know how he had ever managed without her. She kept him going, and made this stressful time bearable.

"I know you'll think of something." She cooed between the soft kisses.

"I hope so," Kenny said, voice lowering to a hum as his kisses moved to Marjorines neck.

Marjorine lifted her chin, eyes fluttering closed, "Maybe you can get something out of Eric. If Kyle won't talk…but…what about you, Kenny…how are things at home?" Marjorine had been pushing Kenny to accept that he didn't need to always be Mysterion, that it was okay to protect his sister and take care of things at home without wearing the costume. Kenny hadn't been as receptive to the idea as she had hoped.

"At home…." Mysterion inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, "I'm not sure…I mean…dad hasn't gone into Karen's room since last time…but that doesn't mean I shouldn't punish him for the things he has already done. That fucking bastard. I should kill him for what he did to her, and to me. I swore I'd do something, protect her…"

"shhh," Marjorine saw Kenny getting more and more worked up and tightened her arms around him, trying to hush his temper. Kenny wasn't going to be hushed. He pulled away slightly, clenching his jaw.

"I swore I would protect you, too. I want to protect those important to me…and yet I've done nothing. Nothing substantial at least. My little sister gets beat. You get beat by your patents, Kyle gets threatened by Cartman..and Cartman betrayed Stan…so many bad people. So much garbage to clean up," Mysterion was staring down at his hands, his brows were knitted together and his gaze was filled with a quiet angry fire, boiling under the surface, "I'm sick of doing nothing."

"Oh Kenny, you do protect me. You take such good care of me, you recognizes ME for ME. You protect Karen too. We wouldn't know what to do without you, so don't be so hard on yourself." She said, reaching a hand up into his hood to coil fingers into his blond hair. Kenny gripped her hand in his and moved it to his lips to kiss. Her skin was soft, pale, and felt cool to the touch. She really was wonderful. It was really he who wasn't sure what to do without her. He forced a smile and stared deep into her soft blue eyes, mirrors of his own bright hews. The way she would smile softly at him made his heart flutter.

"M-Myserion?" Marjorine's voice had shifted, her grip had gone slack and those eyes that belonged exclusively to Marjorine faded. The change in voice was a sharp contrast to the soft feminine lilt of the female personality. Marjorine had been replaced by Butters, who seemed surprised and dazed from waking up having no idea what had been going on since Marjorine had been out.

"Oh….Butters, uh.." Mysterion jerked away from the boys light grasp and stumbled back a few steps towards the window, "uh…I was just stopping by to check in on you, like I do all the citizens...um…I'll just be going now…that I see you're alright." And with that Mysterion dashed through the open window and dropped down into the lawn. He dashed off into the darkness, leaving Butters charging to the window, peering out at the secret hero as he dove into the shadows.

"W-wait! Mysterion!" Mysterion did not stop and so Butter's cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "HOW COME I'M ALWAYS IN LADIES CLOTHING WHENEVER YOU VISIT?" the words echoed into the night and then faded.

_That was close._ Mysterion thought, as he found a private place behind a few fir trees to change out of his costume. He yanked his cape from around his neck, un-buttoning the fastening with practiced ease and slid down to briefs, standing in the foot of snow, shivering as he shoved his costume into a small satchel he flung over his shoulder. He zipped up his orange parka and pulled up his fuzzy hood. He felt much less powerful in his regular everyday clothing. Whenever he had his costume on he became something better than himself, someone with the ability to protect those around him…In this old coat he just felt…mortal. Strikingly, starkly mortal. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, searching for warmth, and began the walk back to his house.

The wind was bitter cold, as it usually was in South Park, but lacked the stinging bite that had permeated the night of the past few week. All in all it was a pleasant night for walking. The moon hung low, sitting shyly behind the peeks of far away mountains, peeking out with only it's bald scalp.

He could see his house up ahead. The lights were all out. Everyone must have been asleep, which was a huge relief. It made sneaking back in that much easier. He slunk around the back of the house and found the small basement window that peeked out over the grass. He crouched down and pulled the small pebble from the corner of the sill where it had been placed to keep the window from closing completely. Kenny always marveled at how simple it was to break in and out of his house, even with all the illegal activity that went on inside. He yanked up the glass and wiggled through, dropping down onto an empty plastic crate.

The inside of the basement was pitch except for the slice of light that fell onto the floor in front of him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once he did he began the careful maneuvering between boxes and tables littered with glass chemist bottles and racks filled with strange smelling liquids. If his parents would put have as much effort into being good guardians as they did into making their fucking drugs, they might actually be decent to live with. As it was, they spent the majority of their time locked down in this dingy shit hole concocting potent rocks of methamphetamine. If it wasn't their families sole source of income Kenny would have turned them in to the police, but if he did that there was no telling what would happen to Karen.

As Kenny crossed the threshold to the stairway he took care to pick up at least four beer cans, shoving them under his arm. His fucking parents, alcoholic dick-holes, couldn't even keep their house clean for their own children. It was thanks to Kenny that they weren't all living buried in their own filth.

He climbed the stairs slowly, being careful not to make too much noise. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up Karen, but even so he stopped at the top of the stairs where Karens door was. He didn't wasn't to wake her, but he needed to check in on her. If not for her benefit than for his own. He wrapped his hand around the door knob and carefully pushed open the door. As soon as the door slid open an inch, a sound rose to Kenny's ears. It was a soft sobbing from within.

Kenny flung the door open the rest of the way to see his younger sister curled up on her bed, gripping her doll in a clenching hug. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him.

"b-brother." She whimpered. In the moonlight from the unblended window that sliced across Karen's face, Kenny could see fresh bruises rising on her flesh. Her left eye was swollen almost completely closed and the skin of her cheek was a sickly yellow color flecked with purple.

"Karen!" Kenny's voice peeled from his lips in a breathless croak. He rushed in and placed his hands on both of her shoulder's. She felt like a rag doll in his grip, so listless and small. How could anyone hurt something so helpless, "Did dad do this to you? Tell me." He struggled to keep his voice level, not wanting the rage rising up inside of him to spill out through his words to her.

Karen nodded slowly, the tears still flowing. She hung her head and fell limp against her brothers chest. She pressed her tiny head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her to him. How could he have let this happen, again. He hadn't been here to fight him off. Now Karen was suffering for his own weakness. Too long had he sat by while his worthless father had taken out his drunken anger out on the two of them.

Letting go of Karen Kenny looked down at his satchel. He lifted himself up off the dirty mattress and turned to face the door. He reached into the bag and pulled out the purple mask, clenching it in his fist.

"Karen. No matter what you hear…do not open this door. Do you understand?" he said, his voice lowering to a firm growl.

"Brother..wh-at."

"Just do what I say. Stay in here until morning. No matter what." Kenny slid the mask onto his face and then pulled out his matching gloves. He did not look back at his sister, but closed the door behind him as he exited. With the gloves snapped into place, he made his way down the hall towards his parents' bedroom.


End file.
